The Search for Mr. Fabulous: Dear Future Lover

Originally published on As We Write It.

Dear Future Lover,

In case you do not know this by the time you are reading this, I feel the need to tell you that I go through periods of time where I am a hot mess. Like this morning for example, as I stumbled bleery eyed to the bathroom. You would have laughed if you had seen my pajamas bottoms get stuck mid-thigh. And then pointed and laughed as I became increasingly frustrated that they would not come off as I tried to get them off with my toe, because I was too sleepy to bend down like all normal people and remove them.

I think you would have disowned me if you then saw the episode in the kitchen as I mashed Maggie food into a ball, crammed in her steroid pill and then, while on all fours tried to coax the cat into eating the ball of cat food and medicine in my hand. As in, I was crawling, and talking to her like I would a small child, begging with her that I had to get to class and she needed to take it so her leg would stay de-poofed. Yes, I said de-poofed among a lot of other things to my cat...I'm aware, it's an issue.

I did get her to take it though and because this took so long, I would also like to make you aware that I do take on too much and in doing so, I often neglect things like make-up and hair. I look like a 12-year-old today, my dear. I have my glasses on with my old hoodie and workout sneakers. My bangs are pinned back with a misbehaving bobby-pin and the rest of my long hair is fly-away and curly. I really do look like I did when I was 12, except now I have real hips and boobs.

Sorry, but I know that you do love me despite of my hot mess and if you are the true, one and only Mr. Fabulous, I know that you think the days where I am like this are cute and quirky instead of embarrassing and awful because just like me, I know you have them too.