Dear Mom,
I just wanted to let you know I've gained about 10 pounds since I last saw you and I would really appreciate if you wouldn't bring it up. Yes, I know how delicious "I Can Believe It's Not Butter" spray is but no, I don't want sprayed on my tongue instead of a Christmas cookie. That's disgusting. If you could, say, also refrain from buying me a maternity top from Target this Christmas because "Oh, I just thought that was your size, I swear I didn't know." No ones buying it. Not even Dad. I'll lose the weight, I've done it before. And if you decide to ask me how or when I plan to do it, I will say, "When you stop going crazy and relatives stop dying. Then I would love to sit down with you and hear all about how good "I Can Believe It's Not Butter" spray really tastes like the real thing."
Love, Me
Dear R,
You are one of my best friends, yet I can't seem to tell you to your face that you have a serious case of MAN MUSTACHE. I thought it would be less awkward if I just wrote it here. It's not like it's a BIG BIG DEAL, it's just then whenever we're together, I can't really concentrate on anything else but... IT... staring at me. Personally, I like waxing but there's also bleaching or tweezing, too!
Love, Me
Dear Cooper (my dog),
I'm sorry I accidently kicked you last night in bed. But you ate three of my library books today so I think we're even.
Love, Me
