For a minute there atheism started being really cool. Everyone was proclaiming their belief in nothing, and declaring life a meaningless result of the universe’s endless expansion. And I get it, you guys. I saw part of a documentary about the big bang on Netflix. Evolution is real. God is dead. Blah blah blah blah. But it’s a little old hat don’t you think? Going off the assumption that the expression “old hat” refers to a hat that you’ve worn a lot and your friends have already seen you in like 40 times. It’s a boring hat, Maggie, and it’s time to get a new one!

Besides, what good does it do me to believe that my actions lack consequence? What fun is it for me to think that I don’t go anywhere when I die? It definitely doesn’t add any spice to my life. I like spice and intrigue and mystery and fantasy. Sure, the atheists have their facts and science. But I was never any good at science or math…or school really (now that I think about it). I mean I was an okay student. My mother definitely wanted me to be better. She used to write my brother and I Christmas letters from “Santa” that told us what he’d really like us to improve on next year, and mine was always about school. I assume my brother’s letter said “stop picking and eating your scabs,” because he is really smart and was in a gifted program. And because he used to eat his scabs.

Besides, atheism is a difficult train for me to board because I grew up with a strict catholic mother. Just like Santa, she mostly used God as a guilt-tripping device. Recently she told me that the new pope is a “Show Pope,” and also accused me of being “sack religious” in a text message. Honestly, I think religion was just her way of keeping me from ever having any fun. Even now, when I am having a really good time, a voice in my head starts telling me that I am definitely doing something wrong because I should not be this happy.

And then there’s the sexual trauma of growing up Catholic. But not the obvious priest molestation stuff. I just mean the idea that all sex is dirty and wrong and if you enjoy it, then you better pack your bags because you just bought a first class ticket on the train to hell (that’s my second train reference). The first time I had an orgasm, through masturbation, I thought there was something wrong with me. But that didn’t stop me from doing it all the time. It just forced me to live with the overwhelming guilt of knowing I was secretly partaking in an off-limits night time activity in my room, which was covered in ballerina bear wallpaper. And let me tell you, those bears had eyes that could see right into your soul. And they knew, they knew. So it’s too difficult for me to just toss the whole “God” thing right out the window.

 So I guess I believe in the existence of God. Well, more like “gods.” Because once you start nailing it down to one specific god then you alienate about 98% of the planet. All I’m saying is God probably isn’t a white man. He’s probably a woman. Now I’m only alienating 50% of the planet which is fine because I think women deserve this one. If I can’t have a lady president than I demand that the entire universe be in the hands of a woman (or women, but I’m going to start using the singular now so I can utilize more specific examples). And this lady God is definitely nice and accepting. She’s like that girl in your third grade class who invited everyone to her birthday party…and not because her mom made her, but because she wanted too. And then, when you’re at the party, one person does something embarrassing and everyone starts making fun of them but lady God makes everyone stop. Then lady God points out how cool the embarrassed kid’s sweater is and everyone is all like, “that is a pretty cool sweater, where did you get it?” And then she’s like “hey embarrassed kid, how would you like to be the first one to ride my unicorn?” It’s a real unicorn too because this is lady God’s 3rd grade birthday party and unicorns can exist if she wants them too. And everyone rides the unicorn and eats the most delicious birthday cake they’ve ever tasted and there’s extra so you get to take some home. And the leftover cake comes in really nifty Tupperware containers that you get to keep.

Basically, what I’m saying is that God is real, and she’ll let you borrow her cute hair clips any time.

The first thing you’ll probably notice about Susan Glynn is that she has a lot of hair. Please don’t give her “helpful” suggestions about how to manage it because I assure you, she’s heard it all.

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