I guess I don't call you that anymore, right?
I'm confused I guess. More than confused, I'm actually hurt. It's stupid to be hurt, but I am.
But I get it, okay? You don't have to paint me a picture. You can't be any clearer about how things are going to be between us from now on. We aren't cool anymore and we both know why.
I guess, because I'm stupid, I'll actually miss you. Or at least who I thought you were.
Dear Donna Simpson,
I just read about you and honestly, honey, I'm confused.
I try really, really hard not to be all Judgey McJudgeperson about...well, anything. But I can't help but think you've really not thought this through.
I mean, I know how much better I feel since I've lost the weight I've lost, and I didn't start anywhere near what you currently weigh. I cannot describe to you how much better I feel physically and how much easier it is for me to move around. How very, very good it feels to run around the yard with my kids. To be able to run on the treadmill. To do amazing things like walk in the Avon walk. Or heck, just walk around the neighborhood trick-or-treating with the kids.
I mean, it's your life and you can (and will) do whatever you want.
But dang, hon. Think it through.
Sorry I said the F-word on the phone to you today. I don't usually do that, but today for some reason, it just seemed appropriate.
Dear Ricky Martin,
Also? No one cares. We'll still shake our booties to your music.
PS: You did get to be a trending topic on the Twitter. So, you know. Congrats for that.
Dear Ray Lamontagne,
Seriously, just about the most amazing thing I've ever seen.
There is a small possibility that you've been added to my secret boyfriend list. Just a small one though.
PS: I totally love your beard.
PSS: I'll so shelter you.
Dear potential friends on the Facebook,
It's totally cool if you want to be my friend. I probably want to be your friend too. As evidenced by my first open letter? I'm sort of failing miserably at maintaining some of my relationships lately.
It would be supercool if you would tell me when you try to friend me, where I know you from. And it's just from you reading this drivel, that's totally okay. But I've been overwhelmed with really weird spammish requests lately and it's making my head hurt.
To be clear, I totally don't care if you use the Facebook to promote your book, your business, or your hot ass. That's cool with me. But I need to know what your intentions are before I have to look at your book, business, or hot ass in my feed all day. So be fair to me.
Good to you? Okay then.
Dear romance novel that I've inexplicably been talked into writing,
Hold on a second. Let me catch my breath.
Oh God, thank you. I needed that.
PS: That's what she said.