Letters to the Inanimate

Dear Drawstring Waistband:

I know you think you’re all adaptable and helpful and whatnot, but the truth is you – like so many of your type (i.e. ‘clothing’) – just make the problem areas more problematic.  I do not need the extra bulk or additional pull of my shirt in that general region.  I’ll thank you to not add inches to my “is-she-pregnant-or-not” middle aged waist.  You will be banished to Goodwill.   This is not open for discussion.

With extra-large regards,

Katie

*********************************************

Dear Facebook,

I know you are too young to know this, but once upon a time when grown-up people would invite their friends over for “cocktails,” it was merely a guise so that these poor twisted souls could pull out their vacation slides and subject their soon-to- be- former friends to an unbearably dull traipse down memory lane.  This tradition was no more welcome than the fruitcake they sent for Christmas (the reference to which you are also too young to know). 

Yet without even having been dealt the original hand, you my friend, have seen them their vacation slideshows and upped them desserts.  Yes, now through the glory of your existence, each day I am bombarded with a veritable mosaic of vegan cupcakes, frou-frou cocktails, artisan sandwiches and the results of well-intentioned grill masters. 

I have noticed that you have created filters that I can employ to avoid viewing every move my friends make in their casual gaming.  I am formally requesting that you please install a food filter with your next release.  Also please create a filter for stupid cat photos.  Who wants to see a gray kitten attacking a plush Yoda toy or holding a remote control?  That is worse than the vegan cupcakes.

With most hypocritical sincerity,

Katie

*********************************************

Dear Cargo Bermuda Shorts,

A full length mirror at the end of the hall just told me that, when I walk, you crease in just the wrong spot.  I am horrified to realize I’ve been walking around all day looking like I have camel toe.  You will join the drawstring waistband clothing in the Goodwill bag.  Maybe.  You might just go in the trash.  I’m too angry to make the decision right now.  I’ll have to sleep on it.

No longer yours,

Katie