Hate Mail: The Return of Overtry

I came home from vacation to 214 emails. One stood out- I didn’t recognize the email address at first, and when I opened it, I thought it was to the wrong person. It read, in part, “I came across your card today and I still can’t believe you blew me off. You’re a fat, average-looking woman who thinks your sh*t don’t stink because you’re a lawyer. YOU SUCK!!!”

Reminder: this is a guy I met at a speed dating event for five minutes, went on ONE happy hour date with, and never chose to speak to again. That was three months ago. I hadn’t heard from him until this.

You’re Fat: No, I’m not. I suppose for Los Angeles, the land of the 5’1, 98 lbs actresses and the 5’10, 110 lbs models, that next to Cameron Diaz I’d might look like I shop in big girl stores. But I don’t. I heard a comedian recently use the “c” word, then say, “that used to be the worst thing you could call a girl. Now the worst thing you can call a girl is fat.” Oh snap- Overtry went for the jugular! Except sweetie- I love my body- it’s curvy in all the right places. Since you didn’t see it anywhere near undressed, I’d give you Mr. Vaca’s phone number to verify the truth of that statement, but you aren’t worth the time it’d take to type the numbers out.

I prefer the famous 90’s deep insightful and soulful poetry, “So Cosmo says you’re fat. Well I ain’t down with that. ‘Cause your waist is small and your curves are kickin’ and I’m thinkin’ about stickin it.” Calling a girl fat is in my mind the equivalent of a racial slur or a serious yo mama insult- it’s war bitch and you’re on my radar.

Average Looking: Well, I guess that’s better than half the population! Consider me a glass half full kinda girl. Most people are average-looking, right? Hence the term “average?” And average in Los Angeles has got to be “Hot for Pittsburgh” any day! I’m a freaking 10 in Mississippi AND Arkansas! Hot damn! I’m going South! But average in L.A.? Aww, thanks- you shouldn’t have.

Why Would You Send This?: My friend’s take, “He fell in love and you rejected him.” That’s the only explanation I can come up with that makes any sense. Really? You’re that mad at me? Three months later? After a grand total of 55 minutes in each other’s presence? You have ISSUES my friend. I’m sorry- my enemy. Anyone who would send this kind of an email to someone he barely knew at all has to be, without a doubt, a very sad man.

No Response from me: Ultimately I chose not to respond to this drecht. My yoga instructor constantly reminds me, “I am not my body,” I’m bigger and better than just my outside. But since I’m in my body, I assure you Mr. Overtry, YOU will never be, nor will you ever hear from the voice in this body because you are hereby blocked and deleted. Loser.