I’m Just Sayin’: Delusional Lesbian Envy

This is going to sound terribly wrong but I’m going to say it anyway!
How on earth do ugly fat lesbians get the nerve to confidently claim that they have a line of women knocking at their doors? And by women, they don’t just mean any human being of the female specie but specifically the drop-dead gorgeous kind – as in supermodel. Yeah right! As if!

And please, go ahead, call me superficial or an asshole if you want to but deep down inside you know you’re thinking it too.
Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely nothing against overweight people – I was once upon a teenage time one of them, remember?
What I have a problem with are lesbians who have no filter and brag ad nausea about something that is obviously the pure fabrication of their delusional minds.
And even if it was generally true, consider for a minute the major social implications such a claim would entail. This means that as a stereotypical matter of fact the entirety (or at least the majority) of our lesbian community is lying, or at best blind – or else, and perhaps worse, is desperate.

Really? You mean to tell me that I’ve been busting my ass everyday to stick to a strict disciplinary healthy diet and kill myself to commit to my Nazi-like workout regimen for nothing? If the answer is YES then I’m either going back to being straight or I’m hitting McDonalds for a super size meal.

I know a lot of you probably hate my guts right about now, and I might have to urgently join a witness protection program, or simply never step foot in West Hollywood again. But before you put me on your shit list, hear me out.

Clearly, the fact that I have a problem with said unattractive overweight lesbians who have no problem in the “that’s preposterous” department is not their problem but mine. Are you still following me?
According to my super sexy therapist, so called “problems” created or seemingly imposed by other people only exist by the mere fact that they remind you of what you don’t have and wished you did, or who you’re not and wished you were.
In other words, they psychologically touch upon a sensitive nerve which in my case is ironically the total lack of nerve – as in absence of “audacity.”

I’m not gonna lie! I am jealous of those overly-confident lesbos who have no shame in publicly advertise their (alleged) Don Juan prowess and James Bond like seductive power of mass attraction – even if they’re totally making up their “female conquest” stories.

Personally, I would never show off – even if pretending – about having a litany of jaw-dropping women hit on me left and right; hmm, probably because they don’t!
But even if they did, I would still zip it.
Seriously, that would make me sound like an arrogant, egotistical, full of myself (and of shit), annoyingly pompous, narcissist. Am I right or am I right?

Audacity should truly be consumed in moderation, I’m just saying!
Last week. I somehow miraculously mustered the courage to get my bootie out of my cozy homey cocoon and join in this other world called “social” life for a work-related industry function in the company of other women who like women. The party was absolutely slamming, and for once the super-duper good-looking girls were pouring – not in my arms, but still, it was visually refreshing.

“There’s hope!” I thought to myself.

But evidently as soon as that thought came, as fast it went. I’ll take the blame here, I should have just left it at that and immediately hit the exit door; but because my greedy self was in for more eye-candy treats, I mistakenly over-extended my stay.

Five-minutes before I was about to call it a night, a traumatic incident painfully hit me in the face. I guess accidents do always happen minutes away from home.

While I kept zooming on the cutie-pies like a psycho-junky in complete withdrawal, some unattractive chubby lesbian, frighteningly sporting what can only be described as an impressive no sense of style accoutrement, approached me. Actually she wasn’t so much accosting me as much as she was using me as a human shield to hide from an alleged stalker. Frankly, shouldn’t she have picked someone her size or bigger to effectively hide? What I was really interested in finding was what the stalker looked like.
Let’s be real here, who do you suppose would be more prone to having a demented fan obsessively stalking them: Angelina Jolie or Rosie O’Donnell?

The real shocker in this scenario was that it was actually an Angelina Jolie replica who was accused of harassing the Rosie O’Donnell look-alike bragger who was talking my ear off about the million other Jolies of the world purportedly chasing after her.

Clearly I am missing something – perhaps a whole lot of extra pounds around my skinny ass … or simply, some balls!