Dear Miz Fitz,
Ugh! New life, new
problems; same guy, same asshole. I like this boy, but today he told me that
all he cares about are boobs. Disgusting, I know. Then I wanted to be friends
and go see a movie, but he said that we can't because his girlfriend wouldn't
like it. I get it, she loves him and I respect that, but it's bullshit. He
would never cheat. EVER. And I'm not that type of young lady.
I just… I can't help but feel like I am
never going to find a boyfriend unless he's straight out of a book. Even then I
think he wouldn't want me anyways.
Sigh. Miz Fitz feels your pain, but she prefers to be amusing rather
than helpful. In this case, since the unworthy object of your misplaced affections
is boob-obsessed, she recommends hormone therapy. For him, not for you.
Modern
medicine is a marvelous thing. A couple of years of high-dosage estrogen and he
can have boobs of his own to admire every morning in the privacy of his own
boudoir.
Miz Fitz realizes that this does not solve your problem, but she can only do so much.
