Dear middle-aged women of the world (or at least of Belgium)

You know, I'm well over twenty-one now, and for all intents and pruposes I'm an independent adult. The only people who still get away with lecturing me are my parents and a few select ex-teachers. (they're the only ones who have ever gotten away with lecturing me, as a matter of fact.) Since you're not my mother, and I can't recall ever being taught by you, I suggest you put a goddamn sock in it.

I know I don't always realise when I'm inconveniencing people, but I'm a pleasant and friendly person, honest. So if you want me to, say, uncurl my leg from under me because my foot's on the seat and you're afraid I'll soil your trousers, just ask me. I'll comply immediately, and usually be real apologetic about it, too. Should you however feel the need to inform me that "Feet belong on the floor, not on the seat," then I'll take my sweet time, and make a big should about it too.

If you don't want people to act like petulant six-year olds, don't treat them as such.

Oh, and incidentally? Bite me.

Sincerely,

Mell
.

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Sofie 'Melle' Werkers

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