Monday, April 5, 2010

An open letter to all children ages 2-12

Dear children of Long Island,

Stop. Staring. At. Me.

When I am pacing the frozen foods section of the grocery store, just let me debate between Edy's Lime Frozen Fruit Bars and Popsicle Firecrackers in peace. When I am sitting at a red light next to your car, just let me get my Justin Bieber on in peace. When I am in Old Navy about to buy a pocketed tee in a size large when I damn well know I haven't been an Old Navy large since 8th grade, let me be in denial in peace. I want to handle my business around town without feeling your beady little racist eyes bugging out at me! Yup, I'm drinking my Fribble at Friendly's in the booth right next to you. What are you gonna do about it? It ain't 1954 anymore, sucka.

Does this look like the type of person who could ever harm you?

Oops! Wrong picture. Does this look like the type of person who could ever harm you?

The answer is no! Let me reassure you that the big, black monster will not eat you! I will not club you over the head and drag you back to my lair. When you glare at me from behind your moms leg as you tighten your grip on her hand, what exactly is it that makes you so terrified of me? Is it the lilac, monogrammed polo? The flower headband? Ohhhh, I bet it is the pink and green paisley shorts (I did hear that the Crips are adapting paisley as their new print). Oh, wait. It's the Gucci sunglasses. BTW, I am not trying to name drop with the sunglasses. I am simply bringing to light the fact that girls wearing big designer sunglasses are usually harmless, Naomi Campbell excluded. Maybe you need to stop worrying about me, and start asking questions about the balding man in the khakis hanging out by the training bras in Sears.

This is what I propose. The first time I notice you checking me out, I will smile and give you a little wave. Then I will go back to chilling at my favorite spot (Target, duh). The second time we make eye contact and you are still staring at me like you saw me on Cops, Cheaters, or Maury (I WISH!), I will give you "the look." The "okay, im being nice, but enough is enough" look. If there is a third time, you have NO RIGHT to start crying, tell your parents about me, or throw a can of corn at my head after I make the meanest, scariest face possible. At that point, I'm trying to terrify you. Deal with it.

I hope we can move on from this point and have a nice relationship from here on out. If you drop your sippy cup, I'll pick it up and hand it to you with a nice big smile. In return, you can say "thanks Rihanna! I love your music, by the way!" I will then give a little chuckle, and ruffle your hair if it looks soft enough.

Lindsay I Promise I Will Not Devour You Mays


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