It’s as clear as a photograph on a sunny day that you hate me. You say things to shame and devalue me but all I hear with these great, big ears is what you are so desperate to conceal.
Your lame attempts to hide your real motives under a veil of disgust may throw your friends off but I can smell the fear, as potent and rancid as sour milk. It seeps out from every forced chuckle and fake grin.
These big eyes see that behind the macho facade there is a little boy trying his best to mimic a man. So, when I saunter in unapologetically, flaunting my large frame as a feminine triumph, your tiny ego can’t handle it. A large, powerful woman has always been a threat to the manhood of the miniscule.
I know you hate me because at the end of the day there can only be one big, bad wolf and we both know, deep down, which one of us that is. Yet, your wounded pride refuses to acknowledge that I could erase you from existence as easily as you have managed to erase my good will. I stand before you a battle primed fortress as you buzz around me in your idiocy. You are akin to an annoying insect flying about the face of a creature that can swallow it whole.
I’d ask if you were a fool but it’s quite obvious. Who else would think it was a good idea to taunt something with such big teeth?