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.