Dear sexual side of me, (If I'm going to write you, I think you need a name, so I'm going to call you Veronica. I know, that's my bowling name, but bowling is sexy, don't you think? Okay, so bowling is not so sexy, but I'm sure you could make it hot, so we're going with Veronica. I don't want to have too many alter-egos or I'll get confused.)
I see you've gotten work. I love the dress and the knee socks. Very cute. I don't know about your friends' sweaters, though. I never understood trying to make granny sweaters sexy, but I'm no Dolce & Gabbana. I have to ask, are you taping our boobs down? We haven't been so...er...compact in the chest since 1985. It is the modeling world, so I guess I understand. Still, I hope you're not keeping the girls bound up like that all the time. I don't want to look like Posh. And don't make that face.
I just want you to know that I'm VERY sorry about that last guy. I know, he was really selfish and truly terrible in bed. Believe me, you weren't the only one to suffer. The experience was painful on so many levels. I've learned my lesson- no more insufferable prick boys. I totally understand why you left. You just take all the time you need. Have fun.
Don't be a stranger, though, okay? Send me a postcard every once in a while. I promise to take our bowling ball, Betty, out on the town. Maybe I'll even wear a mini-skirt, in your honor. Maybe not. It would be hard to bowl if I was worried about flashing everyone. How about a push-up bra? I could do that.
Take care, you little minx,
P.S. Thanks to Bliss of The Strait of Messia for the Dolce & Gabbana link, and all the Sarah Chalke. I feel brainwashed into liking her. And look, D&G advertising porn!