If My Identity Gets Stolen… Good Luck, Bestie

Honestly?

If someone steals my identity at this point in life… I hope they PACK A LUNCH.

Hope you enjoy the $42 in my bank account and my overdraft notification trauma.

Enjoy my anxiety, my intrusive thoughts, and my credit score barely holding hands with Jesus.

Please take my debt. Take it. I insist.

Take the acid reflux that flares up at the mere thought of spicy salsa.

Take the menopause hot flashes that show up like uninvited guests in a Costco aisle.

RELATED: Beyoncé’s Unreleased Music Stolen in Atlanta Car Theft

You Now Also Own:

My back pain: from sleeping aggressively horizontal
My unread emails that have emotionally aged me 7 years.
My subscriptions I forgot to cancel but am too scared to check.

My Google search history -asking “IS THIS NORMAL?” every single night.

Good Luck Maintaining My Life:

The password I’ve reset 94 times.
My joints that crack like glow sticks.
My stomach noises.
My love language which is cancelling plans.

You’ve inherited:
My emotional support travel coffee cup
My half-finished diet from 2019
My Fitbit shaming me

And the rage I feel when someone calls without texting first.

So yes, please. Steal my identity

But just know…You’re not getting a glow-up.

You’re getting stress, Tums, and a personality powered by caffeine and wine…

Godspeed, criminal. God. Speed.