Open Letters:

From Me to Some of Everyone

In an open letter to trivial, unimportant pleasures,

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

In an open letter to the panties that tried to ruin my day,

“It’s a good thing that I took a look at the sweater I grabbed as I walked out the door before I put it on. At work. In front of someone. Please don’t ever hitch a ride via static cling again.”

In an open letter to John Boehner,

“I mean this in the least erotic way possible, but sometimes I wonder what your face skin feels like beneath tentative fingertips. Then I want to eat some circus peanuts. I don’t even like circus peanuts….”

In an open letter to the wretch that is today,

“I hate you. If there were a slur that could be applied to bad days, I would probably not use it, but I would be tempted to. If I were a smoker, I would have lit up two cigarettes and smoked them both, first the right hand cigarette, then the left hand cigarette. I will neither confirm nor deny spending some time today eating my feelings. You are not welcome around here. Go away forever. Die.”

In an open letter to her son,

“I was merely talking hair care, you know, in order to be a good example to you, but that’s not what you took away at all. You thought that what I was saying was about me not wanting to be, “one of those women with like three sad little hairs on their heads.” I have to wonder where you’ve seen these women and who’s talking you there….

In an open letter to the women I heard discussing the movie Selma as I walked down the street,

“I wanted to follow the two of you to the end of your conversation. To the one of you who said that you hadn’t known what Selma was at all before, I am so curious about you. I want to know where you are from and learn about the things that you know that I don’t know about at all. To the other one, I wish I had heard the rest of your statement, ‘I heard about Selma at ….; there were a lot of Jewish activists there.’  Where, where did you learn about Selma? Ladies, you left me with so many questions.

In an open letter to a busty woman considering taking the trash out to the dumpster without putting on a bra first,

“Just put on the bra. Otherwise you will wonder whether your neighbors see you. You will also wonder if the movement of your unfettered breasts reminds them of a waterbed. Or just put on a heavy coat. I mean, uh, this is what my imagination says….”

In an open letter to the woman blocking all of the cheese at the deli counter,

“You seemed uncomfortable when I tried to get a peek at the cheeses despite my generous following distance.”

In an open letter to Eric Holder,

“I really like all of the hair that grows out of your face, especially your mustache. Your eyebrows, too, are rather appealing. It makes me want to take an Oreo cookie, twist it open and greedily eat the cream. Then I want to take the two wafers and rub them together until they form a petite mountain of crumbs and then  I want to tip the crumbs into my mouth.”

In an open letter to exercise and eating more deliberately,

“Thank you for helping me to feel less packed into my workout clothes.”