Open Letters:

From Me to Some of Everyone

In an open letter to the man who is still talking loudly,

“Everyone in the entire dealership knows that Planet Fitness has some rules that you don’t like. We hear that you think that you should be able to bring guests with your basic membership.”

In an open letter to the man who continues his loud conversation in the waiting room,

“While you’re surprised that Planet Fitness, does not offer a sauna, this is not surprising. Also, saying, ‘Asking big girl who has one isn’t an option,’ just wasn’t nice. And just who are you talking to, asking her whether she’s paying her car note today? For a man who divulged that he’s only going to be around for a month, you sure are asking a lot of questions about other people’s money.”

In an open letter to the man in the waiting room who is now talking about someone’s money situation,

“While you might not be able to understand how someone goes ‘from having a problem to not having a problem,’ so fast, I can think of a number of ways that can happen. Also, you’re never going to convince a woman who’s giving her child money¬†that she shouldn’t if that’s what she thinks needs to be done. Also, maybe a small room that others are trying to use isn’t the place for this conversation.”

In an open letter to the men in the waiting room at the car dealership,

“You just reminded me that I find it uncomfortable to use a waiting room when I am the only female. This is exacerbated when y’all are yawning, laughing, leaning, and having conversations louder than the loud TV.”

In an open letter to the woman wearing very thin, very tight khakis this morning,

“One glance and my mind went crazy. It looked like your underwear was pressing equally hard into your flesh as it was into the thin pants you wore. But it is the thought of the sweet, sweet relief that you must feel when you take those things off that captivated me. I wonder if you were punishing yourself on purpose in order to later feel that sudden burst of freedom….”

In an open letter to the body that I’ve apparently angered,

“I’m thinking that feeling decidedly worse after a couple of days of moderate cold sensations isn’t a good thing. What about that afternoon in bed? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

In an open letter to the many old people I saw at the Jimmy Carter Presidential Museum,

“Y’all come out in force, don’t you. You didn’t fool me though. You wanted to learn President Carter’s secret to longevity, no?”

In an open to Pandora,

“You know, I think I need my Barry White limited. Barry White unlimited, was just too much for me.”

In an open letter to the girls running around in this hotel,

“I know that lots of people say that leggings aren’t pants, but what I need to say is that tights aren’t pants. Tights. Are. Not. Pants.”

In an open letter to the portly gentleman in synthetic pants,

“I am upset by the visibility of your junk. This is my problem; I understand this.”