open letter to Jessica Simpson

Dear Jessica,

Can I call you Jessica?  I know we've never met, but I'm cool and not stalkery in the least, so I'll call you Jessica.  True, I don't know any of your songs and not seen a single movie you've made, but I have tried on a pair of Jessica Simpon shoes, so I think we're pretty tight.  Glad we got that over with.  I'm writing to you because you're all over my interwebs today and honestly, though it is by no fault of your own, you're preventing me from getting some work done. 

Don't cry, it's not your fault, it's those bad bloggers, I'm not one of them, I promise.  These evil bloggers are calling you fat.  Now, I would never say that because I don't think you're fat, you're not!  And who the hell cares if you've gained a few pounds?  You're dating that Tony Romo guy, you're happy, maybe you're hitting Taco Bell a little more often, I don't know — I love the Taco Bell, myself, it's okay.  It's a Kerry Blog scientifically-proven fact that people gain a little weight when they're happy.  For instance, my hubs has gained some pounds since marrying me and it's obviously because I make him so freaking happy.  What do you mean I can't prove that?  Jess, I'm on your side, don't make me slap you.  Again with the crying?  Oh, come on, I was just kidding.

It's pathetic that the mean bloggers result to elementary school name-calling to go after you when some of us just want to help.  You're  gorgeous girl!  Lord knows if I looked like you I'd be naked all the time!  Really, you're still maybe a size 8 and I haven't been an 8 since 9th or 10th grade, I'd go to Target naked if I were an 8 — I'd blog naked, for that matter.  Jess, you just need a girlfriend to go shopping with to help you stay away from unflattering outfits like this.  Trust me, high-waisted denim and and a double belt never did a girl with curves any favors.  I'm not saying anything about the pockets. 

Honey, come over, we'll get you fixed up with a good bra to boost the girls up (I know a thing or two about this, ask my friends), find a good pair of jeans, and I'll help you burn that infernal belt.  Really, girl, I'd fire whoever told you to wear that belt, it's all kinds of wrong.  And while you're at it, tell that make-up artist of your's to find some red lipstick, that pinky-lilac washes you out.  At least the make-up artist didn't make you look older 'cause then I'd have say ala Kanye, "THIS IS SOME BENJAMIN BUTTONS SHIT!"  And red lipstick just makes you feel good.  You'll have to trust me on that one, too.  For now, just go to Walgreens and get a tube of L'oreal True Red and put it on, it's practically an anti-depressant.  That is also Kerry Blog proven.  So have your people call my people (me in a British accent) and set up a shopping date, it's going to be fine. 

xxxooo,

Kerry