Open Letters:

From Me to Some of Everyone

In an open letter to the police officer who pulled up beside me as I walked home in the dark and asked me if I needed a ride,

“Officer, you scared the bejeezus out of me! Also, is that standard protocol?”

In an open letter to the middle-aged man who looked directly at my breasts as I exited the store while he entered,

“Sir, if you are going to unflinchingly make direct eye contact with me after boldly staring at my chest, I am going to unabashedly roll my eyes at you.”

In an open letter to the man with the watermelon belly, seeded, not seedless,

“I did not appreciate that you grunted in disappointment when in response to an aggressive wind I held the hem of my dress. When your disapproving noise caught my attention, I looked at you to find you staring directly at my lap. I did not like that either….”

In an open letter to a gentleman whom I did not call back,

“You know, we all have the experiences that we have. But when I ask you whether you have kids, and your very casually stated response is that you’ve always wanted them, but that you’ve had some abortions and miscarriages over the years, that’s a little much for me….”

In an open letter to potential suitors,

“So, one of the things that I’m assessing is whether or not I believe that, should things get to that point, whether I think you will handle my very expensive bra with care and respect.”

In an open letter to those of you who have been abusing the tanning beds,

“Y’alls legs look like hot dogs.”

In an open letter to the adult who asked my son about my relationship status,

“Nope. Not acceptable at all. I wish I had seeded him with an inappropriate canned answer. You know, something you’d remember for the rest of your live. Maybe something involving aliens. Aliens and worms.”

In an open letter to her past-self,

“Why the heck is there a shot glass in the back seat pouch in our car?”

In an open letter to the man who helped me buy a replacement key for my car,

“When I came back to pick up my key, you told me that everything was waiting for me at the cashier. I was a little surprised when you walked me over there. I was more surprised when you stood there during the duration of the transaction. I wasn’t so surprised when you shook my hand, but that shoulder touch was a little over the top….”

In an open letter to my dear friend who is in a bad mood,

“Please know that if I could take your bad mood and babysit until it decided to act right again, that I would happily do that for you. But, alas, I can’t. Instead, I hope that the idea of a bad mood being like a naughty puppy cheers you up just a smidge.”