Dear Skin,

We’ve had a pretty good relationship over the past year. You’ve been smooth and even and fairly blemish free, which I think says a lot during a period of stressful wedding planning and work. That being said, I wanted to apologize to you for getting a little over-zealous with the CVS brand Clearasil to stop what felt like an incoming zit. I didn’t even stop to think that you might already have been irritated by the sun and spreading the whiteness on you would do nothing but completely dry you out.

I’m doing my best to regularly apply lotion to you, my aching chin skin. Please forgive me and speed up the healing process.

Yours with lotion,



Dear Work,

Can you maybe ease up a little this week? I know you’re punishing me for taking Wednesday off but you have to understand, the day is already booked solid and the comp day is well deserved. But the emails? And the follow up calls? And the slight panic in my chest that the press list won’t be as full as I need it to be on Thursday are really getting under my skin. And speaking of skin, it’s probably not helping heal my dryness (see above).

I promise if you go smoothly for the next few days I will clean out my Outlook inbox so it’s not storing close to 6,000 emails anymore. Promise!

Yours in PR madness,



Dear Marshalls,

When I stepped through your doors yesterday my heart skipped a beat. It had been so long, my dear. Months since I last walked your aisles. Week upon week since I tried on your shoes. With bated breath I let my eyes adjust to your bright lights and began my quest.

With a gift certificate to burn I felt no guilt. No nagging thoughts telling me I should be saving, not spending. You were mine, Marshalls. And it was going to be good.

Except it wasn’t.

I graced your dressing rooms with stacks of clothes. Multiple trips with dresses and tops, all the colors of the rainbow.

You were mocking me, Marshalls, weren’t you? I even went into the Cube for you. I sorted through the tacky (and my, was there tacky. Rhinestones, Marshalls? You can do better than that.) and found the pretty. I cooed over the summer dresses and swingy tops. But in the end, it was not meant to be. Not one thing fit right. Not. One.

Defeated, I wandered over to your bedding in the hopes of a sheet set or a duvet stopping me in my tracks. Alas, it did not happen.

I left with two pillows. Two regular, sleeping pillows. Because we needed them. How sensible.

How boring.

You let me down, Marshalls. I had high hopes for you and they were slashed. Please restock so we can try again soon.

With bated breath and a full wallet,