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Today, not only did I become a woman

I became an American. 

I didn't need to take an oath to become a citizen;

I just needed to get my hands on a pair of 

tight grey Abercrombie and Fitch sweatpants.

I feel like every-slut today.

I feel like I could drink gallons of beer

And then have sex with some dudebro

with a sic sic sic gnar tribe tat

I feel like I could rock that vera bradley quilt bag

And a pair of pink uggs

With my hair back while I'm

talking on my Smart Phone

My ass is super enhanced in all of it's white-girl glory.

And if I do get a letter that threatens my deportation because I didn't take care of my paperwork, I'll just stroll in wearing my sweatpants and they'll apologize for mistaking me for a foreigner. 


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'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…