Hey, it's ok: Break up edition

Breaking up is hard, no doubt about that.  Sometimes you just need to do things to make yourself feel better.  Violet, I know you've got your shit together, but just in case you have a weak moment, I just want to tell you that, Hey, it's ok.

• Hey, it's ok to cry.  Let it out, sistah.  I don't mean like a couple of tears and you're through,  I’m talkin’ about collapsing and screaming at the moon.  It's ok to have snotty whole body sobs with the ugliest tears you can imagine.  It doesn't make you a blubbery girl, it makes you human.  And it's far better to let it out now then to let it sneak up on you when you're in the bacon section of the grocery store (Note: wasn't the cute neighbor's love of bacon kind of gross? Swine-nazi!).
• Hey, it's ok to rebound.  Even if that rebound is a baby-child that you will most likely never see again.  The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.  Preferably someone that is nothing like the man you're trying to get over.  A young blonde vegetarian Englishman, perhaps?
• Hey, it's ok to get drunk.  Real drunk.  Krunked, if you will.  No one ever said multiple bottles of wine is not an acceptable dinner (except for children of course, they need vegetables).   And no one ever said you can't use the "I just got dumped" sob story to get strangers to buy you drinks.  Shots! Shots! Shots! (Note: Please be responsible, no drunk dialing).
• Hey, it's ok to be one sad singleton.  We talk about taking advantage of being single and how we're ready to mingle.  But it's ok to be sad.  It's ok to admit what every singleton really wants, and that's to not be alone.  It's ok to know that you won't always be alone.  You'll meet him.  But it's ok to have a helluva good time before you do.  
• Hey, it's ok to live in sweatpants.  Or in your case (July in Atlanta), your underwear.   Presentable clothing is just another way men force us to conform into what they want us to be.  Those khaki loving bastards!  Live in your undies!  Wear leggings without an appropriately lengthed shirt! Wear that one thing he hated and love every minute of it.  
• Hey, it's ok to eat your feelings.  Women are emotional eaters.  You're emotional.  Eat Nutella with a spoon for pete's sake.  It's ok.  Eat all the chunks out of the ice cream and leave the vanilla/saliva ice cream for your roommate.  It's ok. (Note: It's particularly ok since I do these things no matter what emotions I have).  
• Hey, it's ok to be angry.  Nay, it's ok to be fucking pissed.  It's better to be mad than sad.  Be mad.  Call him names.  Curse him with perpetual diarrhea.  Gather all his pictures and fucking burn them.  Blame him for everything you were to reasonable to blame on him before. It's ok.  And on a personal sidenote, may the fleas of 1000 camels infest his armpits.