Tonight, I'm gonna do it.
     I'm gonna call you.
Tonight, I'm gonna tell you why I never wear my hair
     In a ponytail anymore, no matter how hot it gets.
     I'm gonna tell you about the time you grabbed my hot tea  
          And threw it in my face.
I'm gonna tell you that, these days, I don't bother with
Makeup anymore , and though I (somehow) get complements
          I'll never quite believe them.
I'm gonna tell you about the time you made my mom cry
     And how much she feared you after that.
     I'm gonna tell you what it's like to be
          The only one...
To be in constant fear, yet forbidden to tell another soul
All at the same time.
     You're gonna tell me why you kissed my boyfriend
And lied,
So I'll finally understand.
     I gonna tell you about all the things I wish I was
          And the things I strive to be
(All 89 of them).
     I'm gonna tell you why I had to leave.
I'm gonna finally tell you that not only did you suppress my appetite and worth,
     But also my passion.
          And that was the worst of them all.
          I'm gonna tell you about each and every pound I am
          Away from perfect.
I'm gonna tell you about the time I almost gave in,
And finally,
               About the day I told the truth. . .
And you're gonna listen.