After Sunday night’s airing of the first episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta Reunion Show, I’ve been pushed to write this letter. Sheree, girl, I really hope this gets to you because you need to read and retain.
I want to start off by saying that I didn’t watch the entire season only because I’m really not interested in seeing a bunch of middle-aged black women bicker like 12-year-old girls on the playground after a game of double-dutch; something that your co-star Nene Leakes mentioned, but she obviously doesn’t practice what she preaches. I left all that back in high school, something you should’ve done 30 years ago, but….
It amazes me how someone whose bank account probably has never seen a comma in the past 5 years of her life can sit on a couch with designer clothes surrounded by women with money, and flaunt her stuff like her puss holds the world’s most precious diamonds. I’m sure you found yourself riding the 106 bus (or whatever bus number takes that route in Atlanta) to go to the taping of the reunion clad in a rented couture dress and Louboutins (a stunt queen’s go-to shoe). The only reason you had to rent your dress and shoes is because that weave WAS laid, but it could’ve been rented, too. And wouldn’t it have been wiser to pay your rent at that section-8 apartment you stay in, since your dream home is nothing but dirt and grass? Chateau Neverland is looking mighty dry and unattended.
And I KNOW you’re lying about any kind of money you think you’re making because you’re so defensive, and your voice always cracks when you try to read others. I’m good at observing behavior. Nene sat there and politely told you about Chateau Inyodreams, and you proceeded to call out her teeth that have been fixed for months now. You either need new material or some money because you’re envious. But, since you go through money like water, which stunt queens usually do since you have no sense of responsibility, just work on that material so your reads won’t be so inadequate and lackluster. You sound bitter and miserable, and I would too if I could only eat off the Dollar Menu.
Oh, and stop trying to get that seven figures from Bob, girl. We watched the show. We know he only makes enough to give child support that’ll cover GAS. And why are you placing blame on Phaedra for not winning your case? Child support should’ve been something you handled yourself YEARS AGO when Bob divorced your ass and became a broke, cock-eyed joke himself.
My greatest concern is that of your son. His hair is as dry as the hottest part of the Sahara desert. Someone needs to teach that boy about moisturizing natural hair, and give him a good shape-up. There’s no way that young man should be walking around with hair similar to the droughts that frequent Africa. You’d think after visiting Africa yourself and seeing how they live with the limited supplies they get, you’d do more for him. But, alas, you’re too worried about showboating. But let me stop talking about your son. Nene made that clear, that you should never come for someone’s child. I swear I’m just trying to help.
Ma’am, I’m sure those broad, angular shoulders of yours are strong enough to support the world and all your burdens. But, you’re not doing that when you decide to place blame and lamely read all your co-stars. What kind of semi-brolic, middle-aged woman does that? My friend’s mother said something wise to me when I was in high school: a woman should never go poor as long as she has what God gave her between her legs. I know that sounds a bit vulgar and distasteful, but take a look at your co-stars. Nene slid her mammoth-sized body down a pole to feed her large, first son, and Kim slid up and down a withered, million dollar penis to buy Versace china sets and imported furniture for the rest of her life. You need to take notes because She By Sheree won’t be supporting you anytime soon. And if the rumors are true about you being fired… girl, next time I see you I’ll be saying, “I’d like two packets of Polynesian sauce, and it’s to-go.”
Broke is no joke, girl.
Fierce & Love,
Disclaimer: Open Letters contain actual names of celebrities but are used in a fictitious and parodic manner. Any description of the subject of an Open Letter are only the opinion of the writer and DO NOT hold any truth unless witnessed by the media and its’ audience.