I recently ran into my friend Carli, whom I had not seen for several years. If memory serves correctly, it was probably even before President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky got, um, acquainted with one another. Yes, I know, I’m great for keeping in touch.

Carli looked and felt great. She told me that she had dropped a ton of weight during the last fifteen months. But it seems that when she lost the pounds (an amount she equates to about the size of a Cadillac Escalade) she also lost several of her thin friends and couldn’t figure out why. Carli, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you but your ‘friends’ have been using you and it stinks! You have my permission right now to go spike their Latte Frappuccino with that stuff that floats when you open a can of broth. Just make sure they’re not standing by your Josh Groban CD collection at the time. It will get messy.

Wouldn’t a true friend be thrilled that someone in their circle would be able to accomplish such a feat? Carli, these people are not your friends and they have no more use for you because now you look better than they do. You have become a serious threat to them. They were using you as an accessory to make them look better but that accessory no longer works for them. Go punch them in the nose right now. I’ll wait! These are disingenuous predators. They are shallow people and no one needs that. I told her that I know the type and exactly how they behave because I used to be shallow and insecure once myself. She nodded in agreement and said she remembered. Sometimes Carli can be a real jerk.

The shallow person will start out by paying you a few obligatory compliments but before you can say ‘transparent sleezeball’ the conversation immediately turns back to them.  “Candi, it’s amazing how the sagging skin from your matronly arms doesn’t drag on the ground anymore. OH, MY GAWD, YOU HAVEN’T SEEN MY NAILS! TAKE A LOOK AT THEM! I love the woman who did them and I didn’t pay full price because, it was like, my boyfriend changed the muffler on her father’s car and it was like, OH MY GAWD, for sure, let’s do it. By the way, how do you like MY SHOES?”

Carli’s ‘friends’ didn’t seem to mind when she scored higher on her SAT’S. They also seemed legitimately happy for her when she won that essay contest with a marvelous entry entitled, “Yes, I’m a virgin but nothing’s permanent.” Why didn’t those accomplishments bother them? Because they’re shallow, that’s why. Things like high scores don’t matter to these people. You can’t see SAT scores. Perfectly quaffed chartreuse hair is what really matters.

Today, Carli can perform the near impossible task of waltzing right by the KFC on Main Street without breaking a sweat. I’m rooting for you, girl. Keep me posted on your progress and don’t give in. And if you’re ever in the mood for a little fun, remember these important words: revenge is a dish best served with the fat from chicken broth. 


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