Blogging about life and living it to the fullest. Pretend princess/mermaid. Actual basic southern millennial trophy wife.

Look What You Made Me Do

EDITED TO ADD: I was approached by a reader who let me know that words can hurt. Some of the things I wrote in this post might accidentally hurt others that could be struggling with some of the same issues. Please know that that is not my intention— and if I do offend you, I am sorry for that. By taking the time to write this post and be a mean girl right back to the one who was mean to me, I am sinking just as low, if not lower than the initial commenter.  I apologize again if any of my words hurt you— I don’t truly believe that I’m better than you or anyone else for that matter. These are just some of the qualities I possess that I happen to be proud of. Humility and grace are two of the things I need to work on…I know, I know. So I am only leaving this post up for entertainment purposes because I know it is good reading. Thank you to the reader that put me back in line— my favorite part of blogging is connecting with other women that I can learn from. It’s one of the good parts of social media, and I’m grateful to have this opportunity.

DISCLAIMER: This is extremely bad form. It is written in bad taste. And it is not an actual representation of the character of a person I hope to portray on a normal day. BUT yesterday was not a normal day, and everyone is allowed a slip-up every now and then. THIS IS MINE. And I apologize to anyone that finds this offensive or déclassé. Unless you are the troll responsible for the comment— in which case, I do not apologize to you. This soliloquy is meant for you (feel free to reference a dictionary or thesaurus, love, if you feel so inclined). Writing is my therapy. I write my blog to prevent me from going off on actual people in the real world. I write my feelings here so that I don’t follow through with the compulsion to express my unsolicited opinions on other people’s Instagram posts. This is how not to be a troll.


This post has been a long time coming. Thankfully, someone named @burningahooter lit a fire under my ass today, and my desire to write has returned. Thank you to the lovely anonymous troll that commented on the selfie of Savannah and me on my Instagram.

The comment reads: ”Maybe you should take this as a sign to not have anymore kids. I mean how many warning signs do you need? A still born, one with cancer, and one spending almost a month in NICU. You two obviously don’t make strong kids together.”

First thing I notice is the typo— stillborn is, in fact, one word. So that to me already negates any credibility that this person may have. Basically, she’s a dumbass. That’s one.

Two. The username @burningahooter is a reference to weed, so we’re obviously dealing with a winner here if that’s what her extracurricular activities include. Smoking a bowl. Nice. I bet you have a lot going for you.

Three. The instagram account associated with @burningahooter belongs to an anonymous overweight troll (going solely off her profile picture that proudly displays more chins than I could count on one hand) going by the alias of Teddy Hootersvelt.

That’s not a whole lot of information. I may not know a lot about this person, but I do know that he/she/it has been following my blog for some time because she knows about my business.

I can also make a few assumptions from what I’ve been given. All or none of which may be accurate. But here we go anyway.

(1) Unless this person is actually a man or child, then I think it’s safe to assume @burningahooter is a woman that has not been fortunate enough to have children of her own. Or maybe she does have kids, but getting pregnant wasn’t as easy for her as it is for me. That’s right. It is easy for me to get pregnant. I am very fertile. Blame it on good genetics. One of my more desirable qualities as a wife. My husband likes it, and whenever we decide we want to bless the world with another little gorgeous Mazzola child, we can pretty much say the word, and it’ll be done. Lucky for him and me, big families are our thing, and he’s going to be a doctor, so we’re going to be able to afford it. That’s just the way it is.

(2) @burningahooter is not as happy as I am. Yes, even with all of the shitty cards I have been dealt over the past couple years, I am utterly happy with the way my life is going. I am young, I am beautiful (yeah, people have told me that, so I just run with it), I am educated, I am popular (if that’s even a thing— but I do have a lot of friends), I am married to my high school sweetheart (who also happens to be the love of my life, my soulmate, and my best friend), and I am good at pretty much everything I do. My husband is a doctor, and we’re building a beautiful house in one of the most desirable neighborhoods in Columbia. And we’ll get to live there with our beautiful children and our fancy things. And I’ll be sitting on my front porch looking out over the picturesque view before me, sipping a glass of champagne (from my Kate Spade wedding flute) and thinking about what kind of world of misery this girl would have to be living in that would compel her to write a comment like that on a picture of me and my baby girl.

(3) I’m probably skinnier than @burningahooter. I have always been that girl that doesn’t have to work out or watch what she eats but somehow is able to maintain a decent figure. Girls hate that. Like I’m three weeks postpartum, and I’ve already dropped more than half the baby weight. From doing nothing. No physical activity besides walking my ass to and from the NICU and the parking garage. That and breathing. And I’ve been eating cookies and muffins that people have made for me. Because I like that sort of thing. Weight has never been an issue for me.

(4) I am fairly confident that I am more intelligent and well-rounded than @burningahooter. I had the privilege of going to a private elementary and high school, then attending the university of my choice (because I got into and got scholarships from every institution to which I applied), majoring in my choice of disciplines (I chose Biological Sciences, because it is what interested me at the time), and participating in whatever activities my little heart desired (I chose a sorority, because I’m basic like that, and I like meeting people and having friends and going to parties). I was fortunate enough to have two loving and ridiculously hard-working parents that were able to provide those things as options for each of their children. So maybe I’m a little bit spoiled. Don’t hate me because you ain’t me.

(5) I am 99% sure that I have a mean streak somewhere inside me that is meaner than yours. Because I am taking the time to write out this list of reasons why I am a superior human to you, and I am rubbing it in your face because I know you read my blog. My mean streak is a flaw, and I am completely aware of it. It does not come out very often, but sometimes it does.

I would like you all to know that this is not the way I was raised. This behavior is not acceptable or justifiable by any means. This is what happens when you write something out of anger. And I am angry. Which is what the troll wanted. What does that do for either of us? Probably not a damn thing. When it comes down to it, she is just as miserable and lonely as she was when she took the time to write that heinous comment on my Instagram. She has no upward trajectory, and the most exciting thing that is going to happen to her today is probably reading this blog post while she smokes a bowl.

And me? I am still the same person with all of the same flaws I had before and all of the same things going for me that were going for me before. One of my sons still has cancer, and my daughter is still in the NICU. My husband is still a doctor, and I still love my friends and my family. I’m still prettier than you, and I’m still smarter than you. Does that make me better than you? In my mind, hell yes. In the minds of others? Probably still hell yes. But in reality? Not at all. No one is better for what you said, and no one is better for what I’ve said in return— aside from the couple of people I can think of off the top of my head who don’t like me (an old frenemy from the college dorm days and a crazy old seamstress). They’re probably laughing their asses off. As are the people who took the time to read this for entertainment. I hope they got a couple of laughs too.

Mic drop.


This site is protected by

%d bloggers like this: