This post is written from the perspective of listening to several unnamed female relatives. I have combined their personal experiences into a fictitious character.  

Dear Becky, Faith and Laura,

I am typing about current events and what my voice has been wanting to say for the last 50 years. I want to tell y’all in person but considering none of you seem to want to hear it IN PERSON, I have been given no other choice.

Yes, I was the pretty one. 

And not just pretty on the outside, but pretty on the inside too. That, sometimes, seems to be too much for each of you, my three sisters, to comprehend. But that doesn’t mean I deserved fat sausage fingers from Uncle Renn on my bottom! Y’all know that and instead of taking up for me when I secretly shared, you blamed it on ‘my pretty’.

Which leads me to this which may hurt. You need to know what people were REALLY saying when they exclaimed what a pretty personality each of you had. It meant you better make the most of how you act. And I haven’t experienced ANY pretty personality with none of you back then nor now if I continue with my honest approach.

I never did and still don’t have a stomach roll that could have been mistaken for an extra set of titties and my butt (yes, both cheeks!) still fit nicely in size 2 jeans (the skinny legs from Macy’s!). I realize that’s a bitter pill to swallow but it doesn’t mean I deserved what happened to me. I expected better from each of you. Sisters stick together!

I was just starting to bloom when Uncle Renn laid his hands on me. And I told you all then, in sworn secrecy, that terrible man wasn’t acting like he talked up in church. Or around Aunt Jenna or at his dinner table visits. Each of you turned on me as if I deserved bad things for being pretty. And years later I told you about his tipsy visit where he tried to get me vertical on the carpet and I got away and what did YOU Laura, mother of my niece Trina, say? That I had been married three times and who would believe me. Don’t even try to deny.

And now it’s happened all over again with your daughter, Laura! Uncle Renn may be slower in the gait but his fat fingers are still finding the young flesh. And now you are u-p-s-e-t because not even believes Trina. Those Renn followers say she is a tiny fibber over her social sites, telling boys in Denmark she lives in New York City and vacations in the Caribbean. Yes, we know she hasn’t ever put her tiny pink toes in any beach sand other than Panama City but shame on each of you for letting the county folk poke holes in her truth to the authorities.

Nothing is going to hold my roar inside me any longer, it’s pure-gold destiny to support her in court, in front of the jury, judge, county and maybe, just maybe, the world! And that, my sisters, is the truth of the matter.

As Zsa Zsa Gabor exclaimed: people only rain on your parade because they’re jealous of your sun and tired of your shade. Let it be known that Trina is helping me with this letter. Her Aunt Gail will be taking her to the Caribbean after this trial, no matter the outcome. That’s one less fib for her to check off her vanity list, if that’s how it’s being judged.

Truth be known, the hens have come to roost. Trina is a new generation that will make him pay for his sins. Y’all should all be proud. And for the record, as your sister, I thought y’all were pretty on the inside and outside. I saw the shine in and on each of you. I just wish you could see it for yourselves.

Being real with family,

Diana (Dirty Diana if you have your brains-washed!)