I got my first hate comment yesterday. I dithered over whether to publish it or not, and then I thought fuck it. I’m gonna put it right here in the middle of this post and write about it instead. So here goes, Elise whatsername, you got front row seats and your name up in the limelight:

Oh good grief.  Wean your child.  Put him in daycare for a half day or day.  GET A JOB! Instead of living off someone and whining all the time, why don’t take a little responsibility.  Maybe instead of blowing money on vacations (your whole life is a vacation – do you want your son to grow up with your values?), hire someone to help clean your house so you can get your life in order.  Your “poor pitiful me” attitude is stifling – no wonder you are tired.  Go the doctor, get some help.  You have a beautiful little boy, get yourself together for both your sakes.

My whole life is a vacation?? Get a job?? WTF?! For the record, I HAVE a full-time job. It’s called being a single mother.

I know I shouldn’t take this personally, but when a complete stranger stumbles across your blog, reads some of it, and then totally slams you into the ground, without actually knowing your full story, well…. it makes me want to scream and pull my hair out and then crumple into a heap of frustrated, misunderstood tears. That and punch them in the nose.

If I didn’t have an inner critic the size of a mammoth, then this sort of petty shit would slide over me like water off a duck’s back. But you know, I am a sensitive, recovering addict with violent, narcissistic tendencies, and this woman’s comment got right up my nose and under my skin.

And hey, I think it’s OK for me to get shirty since this is my first ever hate comment an’ all. Future hate comments will be censored and deleted without any bad feelings on my part.

In the meantime, oi! Elise whatsername. Get a life. Oh, and do send me a link to your own blog so I can return the favour. An eye for an eye, an’ all that. I would LOVE to tell you how to live your life.