There’s nothing better than karmic unfolding in the form of ugly babies. Back in the days of my grade-school youth, I got in trouble for writing a note about the principal’s daughter. This same daughter was also caught writing notes, but of course, she did not confess to the note (even though the entirety of the class knew and said that the note was hers) thereby bypassing any reprimands. The saddest part about the whole situation was that my note was about her—a spoiled, bitchy, privileged, “pretty” (for a white girl) albeit overweight (except that she was anorexic and still managed to be overweight somehow), white girl who was psychologically incapable of being nice.
Case in point, the two notes. I wrote about her, about how terrible of a person she was (and still is) through her actions and behaviors that make everyone aware of how much better she is than everyone else. The note that we all knew that she wrote was about the student who struggled greatly to keep up with all of us academically. He was, essentially, a special needs student as he was many years older than us, learned at a slower pace but who would eventually be able to live a mostly-independent life. She wrote a scathing, nasty, hideous note about the most vulnerable person in our class, and we all knew that she did it because we all saw the note at some point (the least popular among us at least heard about it). Nobody will ever convince me that she is a good person. Who you are inclined to be in your youth (high school) says so much about who you are, who you will grow up to be. It doesn’t say everything, obviously, but it says a lot. How many people do you know would write terrible things about a classmate who struggles the most? Exactly. You know the type of person who would do this. Would you be friends with them at any point in life? Exactly. You wouldn’t.
But most people do not know the true nature of this daughter because most people whom she knows now did not know her until very late in her high school career. And those who do know her, overlook anything that might be unsavory because she is “rich” and “well-connected,” and yet, she’s done little to nothing with her life, so I’ll never “get it” when it comes to this woman. I know her, however, and I will never forget.
And so, I dedicate this short (due to the holiday season kicking my ass) report to this bitch of a nightmare, and I rest peacefully in the schadenfreude-like gladness that her twin daughters are ugly as fuck. And the fact that they’re ugly is unfortunate for them, but that’s what happens when your mother is the worst type of person—mindlessly privileged, white, suffered no consequences for wrongful actions. Karma is a bitch, but she’s fair. And so, when I think back on my grade-school years and how this woman has grown to basically be exactly what everyone expected—better than everyone, holier than thou, seated upon a high horse looking down on us, giving us “advice” and “knowledge” about how to live life and/or be “woke”—her ugly-ass babies represent the true fairness of life. Perhaps it’s unfortunate that her babies are ugly (and of course I understand how petty it is to talk about ugly babies), but perhaps this is karma’s lesson to her family. Since her girls are going to be f-ugly (they’re old enough now that they’re not just baby-wrinkle ugly; they are fucking ugly), perhaps they’ll have to actually develop some sort of personality that is more appealing than the way that they look. This is karma’s perfect unfolding around the necessary development that this grade-school acquaintance must endure (also, she posts selfies with narcissistic regularity).