Dear Abby: Volume 1

Remember Dear Abby?

Remember how it still exists? I had no idea. 

For those of you that don't know (how's the shade under that rock?), Dear Abby is an advice column that originated in 1956 and was published by the Universal Press. #thankyouwikipedia

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While I never have actually written to Dear Abby in my 27 years of life, I have often written (unsolicited) advice columns to my surroundings. Always in my head; never (okay, rarely) out loud. 

A couple of weeks ago I decided to jot down my Dear Abby moments and put pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboard. Whatever - I wanted to give them life. Mainly because I honestly think several of you can relate to these moments, so why not get them out in the open?

Also - just so you know, you're getting a front row seat to all the random, never-ending, jargon in my head. #blessyou
Enjoy! :)

_____

Dear Skinny Fit Girl in the Cookie Dough Aisle:

Stop. Just stop. When I'm headed to the raw cookie dough section, I'm usually emotionally eating and already teeter-tottering on a hysterical breakdown. So seeing your little fit body perusing the double chocolate chunk does nothing but confuse my already unstable emotions. I would like to believe you can wear spandex shorts because of your dedication to raw fruits and veggies, and has nothing to do with the fact that you were blessed with "good genes."

Please retreat to the produce section. I beg you.

Yours truly,
I break but don't bake

_________

Dear Rachel Green:

Can you please try to find a haircut that doesn't look good on you? Ten seasons of Friends, ten different hairstyles. And they ALL. WORK. What is that about? Have pity on the female population and try to be "ugly." Just once. I dare you.

Sincerely,
I used to cut my own bangs

_________

Dear Person on the Elevator who Only Goes Up One Floor:

Are you kidding me? You're getting on the elevator at floor two, and have the audacity to ask someone to "hit three for you?" Nuh uh. You can take one (1) flight of stairs. It likely takes the same amount of time to take the elevator up as it does your two feet, except it eliminates a stop for the rest of us going up 3-4 floors. Save yourself the glares and stares to the back of your head. Buy a fitbit and take the stairs. As my granddaddy used to say: "your feet ain't put on backwards."

Yours truly,
The keeper of the unwritten elevator rules

_________

Dear Operator of the Vehicular Device:

If I let you over, please say thank you. It doesn't have to be grand, just a simple hand wave. Just a a small gesture of appreciation that I paused my driving, and likely my singing, long enough to let your 8 ft. car squeeze into the 9 ft. space between myself and the car in front of me. When you don't wave, it makes me want to ram into the back of your car. Make your mama proud; use your manners.

Yours Truly,
Road Rage

_________

Dear Cellulite,

Hoookay. That's great that you've really latched on and all - but I don't quite think we need to be this close. Or be friends for this long. And you weren't my friend when I was younger, so it must be my "mature" age that draws you near. Well I'm here to tell you - you have got.to.go. And why do you have a thing for females and leave males the heck alone? That's discriminatory. And I'm calling you out. I don't appreciate that I could be naked for Halloween and call myself "cottage cheese."

Sincerely,
The dimples on my face are quite enough for me

_________

Dear $5.99 over-the-counter Cellulite Cream:

Work Faster. 

Thanks,
Me


 _________

Dear Manufacturers of Dry-Shampoo, 

Initially, I must thank you. I thank you for giving me 45-minutes of my morning back, usually which are spent dreaming, procrastinating via social media, or drinking additional cups of coffee. My plea is for varying degrees of hair help. Just as hairspray allows cans for slight hold, moderate hold, extreme hold, and resisting-gale-force-winds, I need additional assistance in the grease department. You don't have to get creative: day two, day three, day four, etc. is enough of a description for me. Just as long as day seven has the power to cut through the crude oil that's sitting atop my head. 

Yeah. I said it.

Sincerely,
I promise I wash my body on a daily basis

_________
 

Until next time,
Katy