I'm not looking forward to this. Not one bit. Not the comments of:

"I wish you'd do something with your hair instead of just keeping it down."

"Did you gain weight?"

"You know, you really should wear a darker color, it'd hide your stomach better."

"Did you do your highlights? I thought so..."

"Oh you know I know something really good for your skin, for breakouts."

"So how is he? New York, I mean." (My grandma can't call Will by his name for some reason.)

"Oh when are you getting braces again?"

"Did you get that at Wal Mart?" (Understand, in my "northerner" family, this is an insult.)

Just to shake things up, I think I'll show up in a mini skirt two sizes too small, a top cut down to my belly botton, do a wash out dye on my hair in bright red, black eyeshadow, red (trashy red I mean) lipstick. Then when my cousin asks about Will to say simply:

"No, surprisingly, my dear cousin, I don't care if you like my boyfriend or think my hair looks trashy, and you know what, no I really DON'T like all those $100 designer sweaters you wear, they look like a little kid drew them up. And oh yeah, those extensions you paid $300 for? They look like yarn. And really, babe, get your teeth whitened. All that pot you've been smoking is starting to show."

::sigh::

Sometimes being a bitch sounds so good.