Dear self…

Do you feel that uncomfortable sensation about the waist-ish area? Those are your pants. And they are telling you that last week’s “All Peanut Butter Truffles, All The Time” diet was ill-advised. Eat an apple and take a walk you dumb whore.

Kisses,
P’Chef.

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Dear Peanut Butter Truffles…

I miss you already but you are evil. Please don’t be on sale at Target tomorrow.

Kisses,
P’Chef.

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Dear Pants…

Fuck you.

Kisses,
P’Chef.

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Dear Pretty Flowy Summer Dresses…

Hello gorgeous. Let’s make out.

Kisses,
P’Chef.