People are kind of freaking out about Kim Kardashian’s letter to her future self. She wants to make sure future Kim is still the queen of contouring and that she’s still on fleek, but I don’t think that’s all bad. I’m not sure contouring could have a new ruler, but seeing as she usurped the title of queen of booty from J-Lo, it’s warranted to make sure her kingdom is still intact. My biggest problem with the video is the awkward head-nodding smiles, and her seeming inability to type like a normal person. But most of the letter was very heart-warming, as the black-haired beauty wished all of her family well.
I noticed Rob didn’t make an appearance, and I’m not saying it’s because #RobIsDead, but I kind of am.
As for the letter, I feel unimpressed. Mine would have looked like this.
Dear Veronica (thaaaaaaaaat’s me.)
Wow. What does 2025 look like? Actually, I suppose it’s stupid to ask questions because you are literally never going to respond to me, unless a time machine is invented within the next ten years, and there are mail carriers through time who can send me a letter from the future. I imagine the postage on that would be expensive though. I’m not worth it. I’ll figure out 2025 when I get there.
For now, I’ll just tell you things.
How’s your diet going? Is it still starting tomorrow? Take a look at yourself and repeat after me: “Ten years ago, I thought 120 pounds was fat.” Now step on the scale. Now eat lettuce until you look like me — or better yet, until you look like 2005 Veronica. You can do it. As long as I don’t have to.
I’m not sure how insane the political correctness trend has gotten. Have you grown to love your cellulite? Are women walking around like barbarians, because BODY HAIR IS BEAUTIFUL IF YOU WANT IT? Are you still allowed to call black people “black,” or are you living in a society where you literally pretend you don’t notice someone’s ethnicity? Or maybe outrage culture has gotten so intense that no one talks to each other. Everyone stays inside all the time, writes things on the internet, and then makes public apologies for saying things like “I don’t like the idea of incest” because it’s closed-minded or that “cheeseburgers are the reason you’re single,” because it’s shaming someone.
Don’t buy into it. Seeing the world as it is doesn’t make you cruel, armpit hair will always be disgusting, and you should never apologize for your sense of humor.
Speaking of buying things, surely you’ve married that rich guy by now. Or maybe you’re even rich yourself. Doesn’t matter, really. Money doesn’t care who makes it. I hope you have a few designer bags, and someone to clean your house for you, and a nice big closet.
Please tell me you’ve popped out a few babies by the time I’m you. I’m going to get real with you for a second, and the only reason I’m not embarrassed about all the emotions I’m about to lay out is because you are literally me — I’m nervous about never getting married and having kids. I know you’ve worked hard for your career, and it’s hard to find love, and you want to do it the “right” way, and blah, blah, blah, whatever, but I hope you don’t ever become comfortable with the idea of not being a mother. You were born to be a mom. Don’t let society tell you that you can be happy without kids. Maybe some women can. You can not.
If you’re the person I hope to become, you just read that last paragraph out loud to your husband and laughed hysterically at how dramatic I am.
And if you haven’t broken the 10,000 follower mark on Instagram, I’ll be very disappointed in you. Bible.