It's odd. When I first read your woe is me essay last week lamenting how women hate you because you're beautiful, I reacted like much of the world and immediately started calling you a toad. I looked at your matronly dress and your thick calves and I thought: Are beauty standards so much lower in Britain? If that's the case, I would be smoking hot there!
I then decided your essay must be a joke and you must be a British comedienne I'd never heard of so I started reading your archives expecting to find it riddled with satire. But, after reading your past work, I realized that you were for real. I started feeling bad for you and really thought your French husband (Why can you never just call him your husband? Why must it always be mentioned that he's French?) was a domineering asshat and you should vacate his premises immediately.
In your previous essays you admitted to your problems with dependency upon psychics and you confessed that you spent almost $40,000 on them. You divorced your first husband, uprooted your life and painted the hall of your home yellow all on the premonition of a psychic. You freely admitted that you prefer others to make decisions for you. You finally kicked the psychic habit and then you moved on to your new (French) husband, Pascal.
I was actually working on a nice letter to you for this week. I was going to stick up for you and I was going to tell you to hang in there. True, I was going to recommend that you seek professional help for your obvious co-dependency issues and your inflated sense of self that I believe stems from chronic low self-esteem and then you went and wrote another article detailing your fucked up fixation with yourself yet again and blaming it entirely on being a daddy's girl. Ugh.
Holy crap, lady. When will you stop? I cannot be on your side if you continue to act crazy!
Where do I begin? I feel the need to give you some tough love, Samantha - it's the only kind of love I give, so buckle up.
Let's start with your claim that woman hate you because you're beautiful. That is not the case at all. We hate you, because you're a twit. Who spends 40K on psychics? Morons. Besides your poor judgment and inability to manage your money, you give women a bad name. Women have spent years trying to be judged by our actions and not by our bust lines. You are single-handedly setting us back 50 years with your nonsense about free champagne on flights and flowers on the street. (Which, by the way, I barely believe. Could the pilot please come forward and tell us what he found so alluring about Samantha?)
No one gives a shit if you're attractive or not (which, by the way, I think the world has weighed in at this point with a resounding "No.") and we're uncertain as to why you keep harping on it. Stop that already.
Next is Pascal. He sounds like an asshole. Actually, he sounds like a misogynistic, controlling, domineering asshole who continually berates you and verbally abuses you. Yes, I said, "abuses." He abuses you, Samantha. No husband should threaten to divorce his wife if she gains weight. No husband should make his wife do a daily weigh in to make sure she's maintaining his desired weight. No husband should demand that his wife be up and dressed and in full make up before breakfast each morning. No husband should stop his wife from having an after dinner glass of wine. No husband should go dress shopping with his wife and pick out the dowdiest clothes he can find for her and then tell her she's sexy. That purple dress slash sack he selected for the photo shoot? Not sexy in the least. It was just cruel for him to tell you that you looked sexy in that dress. My guess is he told you to write the essay about your beauty, because he knew the world would react the way it did. He knew it would destroy your confidence and you'd have nowhere to turn, but back into his beefy arms. He's playing games with you and I don't like it. Not one bit.
Look, maybe I'm wrong, but I'm just judging Pascal based on all the things you've written about him. I get it. I write a ton of shit about my husband that doesn't paint him in the best light too. The difference is I write satire. I'm being sarcastic and poking fun at him and emphasizing his flaws. I don't think you're doing that. I look at pictures of Pascal with his creepy mustache and his portly belly hanging over his belt (talk about a guy who needs a weigh in) and I think, "That's a man who likes to keep his woman down."
Now, let's talk about your dad. Your dad sounds like a Jedi mind fuck. He has 5 daughters and yet he calls you his "No. 1 girl"? Don't you think behind your back he calls your sisters his "No. 1 girl" as well? Either way it's screwed up. You can't all be his No. 1 and yet if he admits that you really are his No. 1 the rest will hate him and you. Maybe it's not other women who hate you, maybe it's just your sisters, because your dad has created some weird jealousy ring with all of you where you compete for his love and attention.
You say your dad built up your confidence by telling you that you were beautiful. Why didn't he build you up by telling you that you were smart and fearless and amazing and to never submit yourself to anyone (I'm looking at you, Pascal)? Why didn't he tell you that you were unstoppable and that you could accomplish anything you wanted? Why didn't he tell you that should be your own person and that you don't need a man to dress you and tell you that you're beautiful to make you strong and confident? What happens to your confidence when what looks you have go?
Do you know what my dad used to tell me? He told me I could be anything. He never once said, You're the most beautiful girl in this room. He would say, Be yourself and be confident of your abilities. This is what the Hubs says to our daughter too. Sure, we tell her she's pretty, but in the same breath we tell her pretty isn't everything and she needs to get her confidence from inside herself. She needs to reach down deep and know who she is and like who she is regardless of whether she looks pretty that day or not.
I feel bad for you, Samantha. I think that your articles are cries for help. I don't think you have even an eighth of the confidence you claim to have. When I read your articles I see a woman who has been domineered by men her whole life and told she was a pretty thing for these men to keep their thumbs on. It started with your dad and now it's Pascal. I see a woman who trades on her (marginal) good looks to get what she needs. I see a woman who puts faith and trust in the wrong kinds of people and then is made a victim.
A confident woman wouldn't behave this way. I've said it before and I'll say it again, GET HELP NOW.
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