The inanimate speak out

When it comes to me, everything looks good and dandy from the outside when in fact, my life is one big phony lie. I hate what I stand for. Help me. Everyone loves me, now I just need to learn to love myself…

My job description requires that I fill women with false promises. Well I say false, sometimes these promises are fulfilled…However, they often end in tears and then a whole load of the ‘resentment' stuff humans do is held against me.

Also, the whole throwing me around thing ain't on. I have a fear of heights okay, and even though I know its coming each time, it never fails to terrify me. Even if there's a gentle landing in a woman's soft young manicured hands, it only gets worse from there…The Squealing. Dear Lord these women can squeal. My poor ears. Oh, and once they have got a hold of you they hold you so incredibly tight. Painfully tight. It hurts me. They hold me so tightly because they think that I can promise them happiness. Well ladies, maybe I can, but I can't guarantee anything.

It does help with the self confidence and all that being on the arm of she who is the centre of attention all day. Everyone tells us we are beautiful, and she, yes she, proudly clutches me like a shiny new handbag…Oh, and the fact that hundreds of women desperately want to grasp me in their hands works wonders on the ego also.

But when I go home of an evening to a bin (a box if I am lucky), that is when the guilt and the lonliness kicks in. Yes I am beautiful, desirable and important, but I am living a sorry life of lies…I just can't take it anymore…the pressure…the expectations….a