I kind of wish I didn’t feel so emotionally attached to you. I try to keep you in my purse, in my desk, but I can’t help but wonder.
Dear Men at the Gym,
Please don’t watch me workout. Whether you’re actually staring or you’re looking at me in the mirror. It is creepy and I am not a fan, at all. Also, you look really “tool-y” and “douche-y” fist bumping, high fiving, and congratulating each other on lifting that weight once.
Dear Stomach Cramps when I run,
Really? We’re going there? I’m an athlete (you know how mom’s always call you special, my mom calls me an athlete), I know how to hydrate and fuel properly, we shouldn’t be having these problems.
We need to work on a system where you just do yourself without me being involved.
Dear People who say statements with sexual connotations,
I am not a slut, nor am I slutty. I do not watch porn, nor have I experienced Christian’s “Red Room of Pain.” I don’t always understand your subtle hints or sexual jokes. I’m rather naïve, and I’d like to keep it that way. Also, I don’t care how, when, where, why, or how often you’re getting it. Things like that make me want to throw up in my mouth, more than a little.
Dear Truth or Dare,
Do people still play you? I kind of think it would be fun.
Dear Spice Girls Pandora,
Thanks for being my new BFF.
You are amazing. You are awesome. You are beautiful. You are strong. You can do anything you put your mind to, and then some. You will not fail, as long as you try, and do your best. Your happiness is chosen by you, not by anyone else.
Happy Letter Day!