Dear Girl Scouts of America:

Dear Girl Scouts of America: Why are you hiding from me? I get it. It's freezing cold outside and snowy and a bit icy and school has been cancelled for a few days and the driving conditions for your parent's minivans are probably deplorable... still, have you not an obligation to uphold for the sake of the fat people of America?!? I have driven by Wal-Mart and Kroger every single day this week looking for you and I cannot find you anywhere. Girl Scouts, I need some tagalongs and I need them NOW. I need them TODAY. And I want to support you and your horse-back riding camps and your leadership development classes and your little badges for your little sashes and all that jazz, but let's get one thing straight: I really just want your cookies. And now that you have gotten me all addicted to your crack, you are morally obligated to sell it to me.  You are the dealer. I am the user. And I need my tagalongs. It's been an entire year.

So... put your little jackets on. Borrow some ear mitts. Have your granny knit a scarf for you. Put some twelve hour long-lasting heat packs in your gloves if you have to, catch a small cold or the flu if you have to, but it's time to suck it up and make some sacrifices here ladies.  I need the Girl Scouts to get back in the game and remember what's most important: ME.

Dear Dad:


Please tell me this isn't what you listen to.

Please tell me someone planted these in your truck and set you up.

Please tell me you don't still own cassette tapes.

Dear Valentines Day:

I joined the gym.  I joined because it's only thirty dollars a month and that includes up to two hours of free childcare each and every day. Can you believe that? What young mother wouldn't work out (or, ok, sit on the toilet in the locker room reading my Kindle and catching up on emails) if it means free childcare? Anyways, that's besides the point Valentines Day. The point is this: My free personal training session that came with the membership was quite devastating. The young pup started off by commenting on how slender I was. "You've had a baby?" he said, "No way! You are just so slender. You must be doing something right! Wow, you must have a really healthy diet!" Of course I knew that everything he just said was false. I was only deceptively slender and no I wasn't doing anything right (like not exercising in over a year) and no wasn't eating healthy... unless donuts and three meals a week at Chick-Fil-A qualify as the new healthy... no, I am not abiding by any rules. But the more he talked, the more I started believing him. "I knew it! I am slender! I'm still rocking my pre-baby college body! You looking good girl! Those blue jeans that don't go past your knees anymore... they're shrinking after all! What a phenomenon! I knew the air pressure in my closet was making all my pants get smaller! I knew it! I got it going on!"

Valentines Day... that was all a lie.  Cause then the little yuppy with his ripped muscle-y arms and six pack and calves the size of my face pulled out this little pincher thing and started pinching the most ungodly parts of my body, on a witch hunt for fat, and then he started writing down numbers and scrunching his little face up... and then all those comments about me being "slender"???  Abruptly ended. Valentines Day, can you believe the nerve of that guy to be pinching my back fat? To squeeze the sides of my hips like he's trying to show me just how many servings of enchiladas and mashed potatoes I had stored up for the winter?  Putting his little pincher device under my arms and trying to give me little turkey gobblers down there, like I'm some old lady with skin flapping in the wind, hanging down to my knees? Valentines Day, he was looking at me with shame.  Can you believe him scrunching up his little yuppy nose and looking at the numbers like he just uncovered a ticking time bomb that needs to be disabled?

Valentines Day... apparently I have 29% body fat. That's only two short hops and a skip away from the catergory of obese unhealthiness. Apparently I need to lose 10 pounds. If I lose ten pounds I'll end up weighing what I did in the fifth grade. I told him that. I asked him if he really wanted me to weigh 117 pounds? Like a fifth grade girl? He said yes. Can you believe he said "yes" Valentines Day?!? What nerve from the mouth of a gorgeous little yuppy with way too many muscles.  And then he said he wanted me to gain it all back in muscles. Like I'm she-woman. Like I'm actually working out at the gym and not using it for free childcare, reading sessions on the toilet, and the occasional dip in the hot tub!

Anyways Valentines Day... I have to cut back this year.

Apparently, ten boxes of girl scout cookies is too many boxes for a family of two and a half. Especially since Ryan doesn't eat them and Annie was still eating baby food last Girl Scout Cookie season.

So maybe just five boxes this year.

3 boxes of tagalongs.

2 boxes of thin mints.

(And just between you and me, maybe a fourth box of tagalongs that I can hide in my closet. Please?!? I'll only eat it after really tough days at the gym. I promise.)