Emily Lund: A Breakup Letter to Taylor

Dear Taylor,

We really need to end this! I can’t do it anymore.  I know you think you are being a perfectly acceptable member of my life.  I know I bother you daily and I visit you as often as I pee or shower.  I have given you the impression I want you around, and that is my fault.  Maybe I keep coming back in the hopes that you’ll give me good news?  Maybe it is because some days you do give me good news? Granted, you do kind of smile when I look at you, but in the end, I can tell you are really just trying to tell me that I’m worse than I was last week, or last night, or two hours ago.  You never take into account my body type or how much muscle I have, you just throw my information out there and you blackmail me with it.  You don’t like me and I know it.  You make me feel bad about myself.

I don’t know how to deal with you, Taylor.  I’ve tried ignoring you when I walk by. I tried taking another path so as to avoid you altogether.  Nothing seems to work. I told my husband about you, and he would like to just get rid of you.  I don’t know what that would entail, and I don’t want to threaten you, but it might come to that if you don’t leave me alone.

I don’t know anyone that likes you and ALL my friends have never said anything nice about you…EVER!  How can you be so “judgey” when you are so disliked by everyone? Where did you get this control?  Where did you get that awful toothy red smile?  Why do I think about you when I eat cheese or drink beer?  How did you bore your face into my mind?  How do I get it out?

I’ve thought about you far too much over the years and I’ve let your face influence my life negatively.  I’ve had less fun or even cried because of you. I remember the time I starved myself and worked out for 3 hours one day only to come home to you telling me what a failure I was. There was that other time when I only ate carrots at the birthday party and you still weren’t happy with me afterwards. Today it STOPS.  If I show the world what you blackmail me with, you won’t have any control over me.  You’re just not that important and I don’t even really trust your accuracy.  I know your information is based on some chart somewhere and I know you are just going off of math and “science” but from what I have heard, that chart is old and outdated.  I think you probably need to be replaced by a better judge or guide.

So that’s that.  I’m showing everyone what you showed me today and I’m not going to feel bad about it anymore.  I’m healthy, I can kick your ass and I can deadlift 215 lbs.  I can do real push-ups, not the knee ones.  I play tennis, run races, manage people, cook dinner and EAT dinner. I don’t need you to tell me who I am or who I should be. I am a badass!  We are breaking up Taylor.  Good riddance!




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