An Open Letter to Hilaria Baldwin from The Cucumber

Hola Amiga! It is I, your little pepino.

How are you? Not good, huh? Same.

I hear you’ve been dealing with a lot lately and, not to take away from your very real social influencer pain, but I wanted to get some stuff off my chest.

You see, it hurt my feelings when you pretended you forgot my name.

How could you act like we don’t know each other?? It really gets under my peel when you’ve met someone a million times and they pretend not to know you.

I’ve moisturized your eyes, infused your water, been your entire lunch the week before the Emmy’s, and then you disown me on the TODAY SHOW?!

You’re not Mariah Carey. You know me. Honestly, I’ve made a very big effort to use your chosen name and forget I ever knew Hilary Hayward-Thomas. And so did your entire elementary school, high school and nuclear family. That’s three names we’ve all wiped out, yet you can’t be bothered to retain my one.

So what is it? I don’t do enough for your “career”? I was there for you back when you were a nobody. I knew you before you had a TV! I supported your yoga practice and nourished you through your lawsuit drama, but now that you’ve social-climbed your way to the top you cast me aside?

We’ve known each other since day one. What do you think they served at the Boston Tea Party? Cucumber sandwiches.

Are you afraid I’ll tell Alec that your May-December romance is more Mayflower than Mallorca? I would have taken that to the grave.

But no more.

No one puts bebe en la rincón. You can lose my number for all I care.

I’m sure we’ll still run into each other at social gatherings and at the infused water cooler at Equinox, but don’t expect a cool embrace.

And when you get thirsty — and I know you will — reach for a lemon instead, will you? They’re a little tart, just like you.

Besos,
Cucumber