Dear Cellulite Who Resides on My Thighs,
I feel that it is time for us to part. I can see you back there and I just don't agree with what you've done to the landscape. You've really lowered the value of the neighborhood.
I've given you proper warning and time to vacate the premises and yet everytime I look in a mirror I still see you. Enough is enough. It's time to cut our losses and move on.
If you do not remove yourself from my thighs, I will be forced to begin taking steps to remove you myself. I'm hopeful that you will just up and leave without my any assistance from me. But if you don't I will be left with no other choice, but to begin helping you pack up and leave. And trust me neither one of us wants it to come to that.
While we're discussing this matter, it was also unacceptable for you to invite your family and friends to move in next door and I would like them to leave as well.
I'm attempting to keep this civil, but if you aren't gone by summer than I fear that I will be forced to use exercise *gasp* to enforce your removal! The mere mention of using such a dirty word, even as a warning, makes me feel ill. Let's solve this matter without losing what dignity be both have left.
I Want My Pre-Baby Body Back in Washington