Dear Sour-Faced Lady I Saw in the Wisconsin Dells:

I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but a Brazilian wax and a crotch-area tatoo do not entitle you to be an unpleasant drain on everyone's fun, no matter how much they might hurt.

Your bikini-ready body may impress your affable, paunchy, ruddy-faced, middle-aged consort, but frankly, you have frizzy hair and a Butter Face. Combine that with the snarl on your face, and you look like a wolverine someone shaved and taught to walk on her hind legs.

Now, I wouldn't be so critical, if, a) you didn't think so highly of yourself; b) you had any other worthwhile qualities. Kindness, for example. A sense of humor, for another. Any noticeable skills. Even a smile.

Alas, no. You treated the paunchy one's children horribly. I take that back; you didn't interact with them at all. Nor with the paunchy one, as he played with his children. Perhaps you are used to being the only child around. However, even someone with your limited capacity for noticing something other than yourself must've noticed you were in a family-oriented area, not a Sandals resort. Couldn't you have tried to make the best of it?

I hope Ruddy Paunchy dumps you for someone better. He seemed very nice, probably over-indulgent toward you, and his children were well-behaved. You, on the other, were a pill and no fun whatsoever. I hope you make some changes before you're the leathery bag in the nursing home that no one visits and the orderlies cringe to talk to.