Get it together, Democrats, because I’m ready to high tail it out of this White House of garbage.

If I have to eat off one more filthy piece of Obama china or sit on a Lincoln sofa I’m going to vomit all over the wonderfully tacky Rosa Garden.

My husband has effected so much change that we’ve yet to fully comprehend his handiwork. I estimate five to six generations will lose their minds over the glorious effects of his legendary governance and I think that’s plenty. He’s done enough!

Having to have a job other than being a Trump was never part of my deal. Under no circumstances did I marry my Trumps thinking that I would have take time from Pilates to be First Lady!!!

Between you and me, I’m in desperate need of a break longer than a measly three weeks at a time at five-star accommodations. All these picture-taking demands and feeling obligated to read Stephanie’s memos in the form of brief text messages is exhausting.

It’s time to do what Donald and I do best – take a private plane to Mar-a-Lago.

So make sure you vote in 2020 for whatever Democrat has the unfortunate luck to debate my looming husband. He’ll stalk his contender like a jackal or a polar bear but I know you can find someone with a proper background to tackle him if the need arises.

(Please (please) (please) (!) note that bygone Bernie is automatically excluded from this criteria. He was too old for draft and he is too old to wrestle my Trumps who has epic experience in WrestleMania.

Elizabeth Warren may show some natural ability, especially since she’s related to Pocahontas.

Between you and me I think my Trumps would be most frightened by Kamala Harris because not only is she a woman who has stopped menstruating, but she’s also half black.)

Pick the right candidate, Democrats. I’m depending on you. To quote a great American hero, you’re my only hope.

XO Melania