An Open Letter to Beyonce

An Open Letter To Beyonce

Dearest Beyonce,

I’d just like to let you know I worship you. Like, legiterally, I pray to you, and Britney, and Kate Middleton, and God during times of need. When I’m not feeling strong enough, or pretty enough, or bitchy enough (mainly on days when I’m hungover and a little frustrated with life), I think to myself “What would Queen B do?” Then I get my shit together, dance around to “Single Ladies” for a while, and go ruin some lives. You’re an inspiration to all of us, even though you named your daughter something hideous. Moving on.

I know everyone’s been a little bit hard on you lately because you lip synched the National Anthem at Obama’s most recent Inauguration. Don’t let these people bring you down. I mean, think about it: Ashlee Simpson lip synched on SNL once, and people were all but ready to burn her at the stake. It happens. People can’t expect you to be this infallible songstress at all times, can they? Plus, it was super cold out, and I feel as though singing live in that weather would probably be damaging on your vocal cords.

Bear with me, here.

If you let people start to get to you about your lip synching incident, you’re basically telling everyone you give a fuck, and not giving a fuck is kind of your thing. It’s the reason I look up to you so much. True, I may not always agree with your fashion choices (your 2012 Met Gala dress, for example), and I may think Jessica Simpson could have done a better job naming your daughter than you did, but you are an icon to divas, demanding psycho bitches, and gay men everywhere, so I’ll give credit where credit is due.

Listen, Beyonce, I think it’s cute you still make your former Destiny’s Child band mates feel relevant every once in a while, and you feed the ego of your obvious disappointment of a younger sister, Solange. I think it’s admirable you were brave enough to post your private vacation pictures on your tumblr account, overstating how few fucks you give about what anyone thinks about you, or your less than perfect, makeup-free skin. I think now is your time to show everyone who you really are: Queen Beyowolf, who cannot be bothered with any nay saying from her peasants.

It’s obvious what you need to do in order to reclaim your throne, and the respect of all of your subjects: You need to make this Sunday’s halftime show performance your absolute bitch.

You’re taking steps in the right direction, especially after you went rogue at the recent Super Bowl press conference and performed an amazing impromptu version of the national anthem, just because you could. This Sunday, you need to show up in some amazing dress (not Zac Posen, and don’t you dare even think Zuhair Murad). You need to make it obvious you are the only thing worth watching that day, not some stupid showcase of athletic ability. You also need to give the most amazing live performance of your career. It’s literally that simple. All you need to do is something so amazing anyone else who has performed at the Super Bowl starts to feel inadequate and questions their very existence as an entertainer. You need to look so impossibly hot that nobody will ever be able to compete with any aspect of your performance. Wear your hair down in some amazing wave scenario. This is no time to mess around with some risky updo. Perform any of your chart-topping songs. Call on your past backup singers (AKA the other members of Destiny’s Child) for help. Lean on them to give us all something to make watching the football game less painful.

Beyonce, this is serious. This is NOT the time to fuck around. You have an entire community of gays and their besties anxiously awaiting your epic performance, and you seriously had better BRING.IT. Imagine that I said “bring it” while snapping my finger and flipping my hair. It is THAT serious.

Overall, Mrs. Jay Z, this is your chance to continue not giving a fuck what anyone says. I know people are doubting your current entertaining abilities, but trust me, I believe in you. I do. I think you’re going to be great, as long as you follow my advice. Also, if you do decide to share the stage with anyone Sunday night, don’t let them steal your spotlight. This means you need to pay off whatever network executives you need to in order to prevent the camera spending any time on whatever celebrities decide to show up to watch the game.

I have faith in you, Queen Bee. No pressure. Just don’t mess this up.

Best of luck, and wishing you a long, prosperous reign,
Pearls xo


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