So I’m sitting in the waiting room of my doctor’s office, minding my own business, when a little girl walks up to me wide-eyed. Now, I love kids. Kids love me. We have a connection, get me? So I smile and say “Well, hey there!” And what does she do in response? Ask one of the two questions that turn me into an AK-47 wielding maniac: “Are you Hannah Montana?” or “Are you Miley?”
I try not to let the kid see my eyes are turning red and my veins are becoming bigger than the Hulk’s, and say through gritted teeth “No, sweetie, I’m not Miley.” She then turns her head down and walks away sulking to her mom.
Miley Goddamn Cyrus, I fucking loathe your existence.
It was bad enough she existed when she was just making a terrible TV show with cavity bubblegum pop. It was even worse when she started to go mainstream and start releasing slutty pictures of herself. But when someone made the connection one day early in my senior year of high school, it all went downhill from there. Since then, I’ve had offers to come surprise little girls as Hannah Montana, had one guy get a hard on and lose it once I told him I wasn’t Miley, and had a little boy cry upon finding out I wasn’t her. My DNA is marred for life. I feel like I have to apologize to my future kids for their mother looking so similar to a redneck trash girl.
To everyone out there who likes (I shudder to think…) Miley, I feel a mix of anger and sadness. Why perpetuate this awful torment for me?! Why continue this mad mixup of torture?! It needs to stop—both for my sanity and for the sake of little children…and adolescents…and anyone else who possibly deems her as *cringe* “entertaining”.
So please, for the love of God and all things holy, or just to keep yourself safe, when you see me….just leave Miley in your brain.