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Help! I Got a Vanity License Plate But I Still Hate Myself

It’s no secret that many of us struggle with our mental health and self-image. I’m no exception. While we might hope that a new hairstyle or some other cosmetic adjustment will boost our confidence, the unfortunate truth is it’s more complicated than that. For instance, I recently purchased a vanity license plate for my car, but it completely failed to diminish my seething disdain for myself!

Now, some consider vanity license plates to be tacky, but I beg to differ. They are expressions of one’s steadfast individuality, broadcast in clever shorthand to an audience of fellow commuters and passersby. What could be a better way to prove to the world—and myself—that I have inherent value?

Of course, making this change wasn’t easy. My first six submissions were rejected, for reasons ranging from “Indecency” to “Obscenity.” But I finally got one approved. And I, ACAI BB, was ready to take on the world.

I deliberately headed downtown during rush-hour traffic, wanting to share my new plate and soon-to-be-surging confidence with as many people as possible. Well, I think a lot of people saw it. But the reaction wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for. Nobody honked in appreciation or gave me so much as a friendly thumbs-up at a red light.

Frustrated, but not defeated, I decided I’d go to Whole Foods. Well, more specifically, to the Whole Foods parking lot. Surely there I would meet people positively tickled by my free-spiritedness and expressed love for antioxidants. But while I did hear some comments directed towards me, they were more along the lines of “Is she just sitting there?” and “the fuck is an ‘achy baby’?”

I’m not saying I expected a license plate to solve all of my problems. But I thought this would make me feel a little better about myself. If I’m being honest, I think it made me hate myself even more. I don’t even like Acai berries all that much. And even if I did, it’s a pretty fucking stupid thing to put on a license plate. What’s wrong with me?

Nonetheless, I’m holding onto some remaining shreds of hope. Once I get my replacement plate, reading “Ween Diva“, things’ll really start looking up.