An Open Letter To The Hoes At The Club

Listen bitches, you all have been messin' with my Esther Williams flow for long enough. I know, I know, if I had started my New Year's resolution when I normally do in mid-April instead of January 2nd like the rest of you losers, I recognize that I would not have this problem. But this is not about my timing. This is about your bad behavior, your sick habits, and let's face it, your mental illness.

And since I have committed to this swimming thing by laying out cash for the club fees and the new bag to carry my towel, pool shoes, and new swimsuit-- we need to come to an arrangement right here, right now.

In addition to abiding by the rules posted at the club, such as, no spitting, coughing or entering the pool while knowingly suffering from Tuberculosis or Bird Flu. Me, myself personally expect you to abide by the following:

1. Do not under any, any circumstances talk to me. I find talking to people in bathing suits discomforting. I never wanted to picture you naked and now with very little imagination I can and it makes me gag.

2. Stop kicking water in my face dumb ass. I don't want to get my weave wet, okay bitch? And no, I will not put my head underwater so stop asking your aged husband because I can hear you.

3. Stay away from me. I am not swimming in a lane because I am doing something called "aqua aerobics". Yes jackass, I know that they don't have this in the Ukraine. You don't seem to mind your snail pace crawl across the pool and the extra 85 pounds. But me? I am trying to rid my body of some baby phat. Also, I am trying to become one with the water.

4. Do not swim so close to me or snort water out of your nose next to me. And if you can help it, don't cross inches in front of me as I am coming down the pool. It is just rude.

5. In the dressing room, don't smile at me, especially if I am naked. Likewise, don't try to catch my eye and for god's sake, can you not walk behind me just as I am bending over?

6. I'll admit that I am duly impressed by your new limited edition Yves Saint Laurent bag, the killer boots, and this season's best Gucci coat, but you are just going to the pool. And since you are just going to the pool, do you think you could leave your maid and nanny at home for a change? Ditto for your prepubescent son, who by the way, is getting too old to go into the women's changing room. I caught him trying to sneak a peek and frankly, I will not rest easy at night knowing that a sighting of my postpartum body will lead to years of psycho-therapy for him. And your maid was also checking me out. In truth, it sent shivers down my spine because getting naked in front of a complete fully clothed stranger reminded me of the Clinton era. And I am a new woman now.

My rules are simple and not in any way a request. If you choose to ignore my them, you will get my new kick board up your ass.

And finally, the pool is for everyone to enjoy, so let's have some fun. Besides, it is only a matter of time before one of us quits anyway.