Friday's Letters

Well, it's that time again.

Dear 90s,
I'm kind of stuck on your music lately. I don't know what it is. I think it reminds me of being a pre-teen and being able to sit around and listen to music all day and basically not do anything else unless I wanted to. Ah, the good old days.



Dear Hair,
You suck. You used to be awesome (at least I thought you were), but then you went and got all hormonal on me after Carter and you still haven't recovered. I really don't appreciate having a little front mohawk, a mullet and a receding hair line. It's kind of the pits.

Dear Head Bands,
You could fix my hair issues, but you insist on giving me a headache after about two minutes. Why must you press on the sides of my head just so? It's like you find these little pressure points and cripple me. It's not fun feeling beaten up by a head band. Even you little cloth ones bug me after a while.

Dear Hair Spray,
Why must you make my hair crunchy? You say you won't, but you lie.

Apparently there's nothing that can be done about my hair issues. I should just throw on a baseball cap and call it a day.


Dear well meaning 20-somethings who complain about too many baby pictures on Facebook,
I just want to take this time to apologize to you that you are forced to wade through pictures of cute babies on Facebook (oops), on blogs (oops), twitter, instagram (oops again) and basically every other social media outlet everywhere. I'm sorry you see us (moms with babies) at the grocery store, at Target and at basically every other establishment.

It must suck to be reminded so often of how lame you're going to be one day. I'm sorry we haunt your  Facebook and your blog, but sometimes we want to be reminded of the lack of lameness we used to possess.

*So if you follow me on instagram, you've already seen these. Yeah guys, I'm on instagram now (amy_nyabb).