hard, cruel, mean, and strong

it was wrong for me to characterize the woman i married as a “cheerleader” in high school. it’s true that she was (for three weeks), and it’s true that she played it up a bit when we first met due to a conversation in which i let on that i once greatly enjoyed pom-poms, but it’s hardly a fair descriptor of her personality. i was thinking tonight that i should have described her to you instead, as “the girl who was upset that someone was fucking with a friend of hers in high school so she gift-wrapped a dead cat and left it on their doorstep.” or “the one who ran circles around the overnight truck-filling crew in new york city until she was made manager” or “the chick with the utility knife and the dead cockroach collection.” or maybe “the woman who gave birth to our daughter standing  up in our bedroom without any anesthetic  or help from the medical community.”

any of these would have painted a more accurate picture. i accept the blame, of course. it was lazy of me, and completely unfair. and you can put her down and call her my “white wife” all you want. aside from the fact that it sounds a wee bit silly coming from someone as pale and pink as you, i just don’t see it. i look at her and see strong, well-shaped, slavic cheekbones, pretty hair, and kind eyes. i don’t see a “white person,” at least not with the poison dripping from the word, as you employ it.

anyway, yeah. accept my correction, please.