I want you to know that despite my husband’s undying love for you, I bear you no ill will. Having not been blessed with anything near the posterior that you possess, I allow him to dream.
I can even overlook your over saturation in the media. Magazines, tv shows, red carpets. Although I know not what it is you do exactly, I do respect your hustle and ability to have come out of Paris Hilton’s shadow, only to overtake her celebrity status.
I can even forgive you for dating Reggie Bush. Reggie Bush…*sigh*
Okay, maybe I was hating on you for your good fortune. Lucky beyotch.
I can even overlook your insipid reality show. I actually watched a recent episode one Sunday afternoon. You had a nude photoshoot with a major magazine. Then when they aired your nude photo, you cried your eyes out saying they “promised” to cover you up when it was published. *crickets*
I was willing to overlook these things. You are a beautiful girl with a killer body. Your fashion sense has improved dramatically. You have managed to exhibit some business savvy and built an empire for yourself afterall.
However, I have since had to part ways with you altogether. Even Mr. 1969 says he is done with lusting after your ample assets. Why?
Because when his purple royal highness pulls you up on stage in MY hometown and asks you to dance……you dance dammit.
Ain’t nobody too cute to dance with Prince. Heffa. Should have known you had no rhythm after that boring video with Ray J.