Grudge Tuesday: An Anniversary Story

Dear Labor,
Are you shocked that I remembered our anniversary?
Surprise!
How I love to catch you off-guard!
I bet you thought you were extra spooky, creeping in on Halloween last year, but I was not surprised, if you remember.
I wanted to send you a special anniversary note to let you know that we won't be seeing each other anymore. Really, I am completely and utterly over it with you. If you are smart (and this is unquestionably my core issue with you - you are not!), or if you don't want your sorry ass kicked (really, I have access to drugs that can and will knock you flat), you will take that as a very clear message to never ever come around me or my little family again.
Before we part forever, though, I need to get a grudge off my chest:

Why do you hurt so fucking bad?

Really. Why do you find the need to make your presence so staggeringly painful? Does it fill you with glee to know that women across the globe, from the beginning of time, have feared you so? Because I just think it is completely unnecessary. Overkill. Too dramatic, too much, you know what I mean? It wouldn't hurt you (mind the pun) to tone it down a bit, back off. Not that you'd listen to me - after what - 60 million years? - why start now?
But really, since I am getting myself out of this predictable relationship for good, I have no problem just laying it down for you:

You suck. You are nobody's friend when you act like that.

Do you have any idea how many more people would love to invite you into their homes and offer you tea and sweeties and warm herbal baths with soft background music if you just would stop tormenting your hosts?
Do you??
Even my husband has less-than-fond memories of you, and you hardly invaded his 'space' in the same way! He thinks your whole act is completely overstated. And he most definitely does not want to see you again. Seriously.
Anyway, I know I will probably have to brush shoulders with you again socially, at which point I will politely grind a piece of high-grit sandpaper between my teeth, just to pretend that you don't bother me.
But when we do meet again? And when you show your true colors and get all abusive and vile on some friend of mine? Well, you better brush up on your nastiest, most profane insults, compadre, or bring your earplugs, because I will unleash my unusually long and well-practiced invective on you, you nasty motherfucking motherfucker, but you already know that, don't you?
Sincerely,
Gwendomama