Lisa Schumaier GoWild Columnist

My mom used to give me $20 for Valentine's Day decorations at Michael's. In second grade, shoeboxes were pimped-out, come-and-get-your-OshKosh B'Gosh-lovin'' mailboxes. My heart stickers had glitter on them. I refused the doilies and went straight to silk, the material of fancy lingerie. It used to be inclusive. Everyone received flattering notes that day, even the kid who used to drool blue because he sucked on the scented magic markers. We were taught that on that one day, we had to appreciate everyone. This lesson has melted like a Popsicle in the sun over the years.

At this age, Valentine's Day is like recess without the monkey bars or four square. We are carrying over a ritual that only benefits people who still have trouble tying their shoes. This holiday is an overgrown kid in diapers playing Little League. It is so obvious that it is not working anymore. Valentine's Day is a pain and embarrassment for everyone ÷ even those who think they are benefiting (cough, cough, GIRLS).

If I were a guy, I would tell Valentine's Day to eat a dick. At what age did you figure out that the holiday was no longer meant for you? You grew up on playgrounds that were equal. Was it middle school when you realized that the shoeboxes were clever designs to make you care about Valentine's, only so you would grow up and reward women with petals and swollen chocolates every Feb. 14? Look at the two synonyms for Valentine's: flowers and chocolate. This is directed toward males. And if you do not spend a quota of money or get reservations at the most posh restaurant, then you risk ruining a day whose importance is absurd.

As a woman, I am ashamed to benefit from such a sexist celebration. In fact, this day should be called Girdle Day. Then we can openly regress to a time when sexism was physically uncomfortable instead of just mentally uncomfortable. And all you so-called feminists get a day off of work because of the holiday. In the morning we can all bind our feet. In the afternoon, we will wear burkas from Victoria's Secret, and at night slip on our gifts of treason.

America has this holiday so our popular culture can cling to the stereotypes they assign women. Next time we ask for some equal rights, or have to fight Wade, as in Roe v. (that historical bastard who's as hard to scrape off of our well-being as dog shit from a hiking boot), this day will be vomited in our faces with the force of a fire hose. Will those store-bought weeds be worth it then?

Did you know that roses aren't even a natural flower? The actual specimen looks more like a daisy, and grows along the sides of interstate highways. They were genetically engineered by dorky white men in lab coats with syringes and petri dishes. Your whole holiday is based off of a cloning gone wrong.

If you really want to spread some love, hold an anti-war protest.