Open Letter To My Rack


Dear Twin Mankillers,

We’ve been together for quite some time now. I’ve watched you blossom from training bras to beautiful Cs, and then outdo yourself by reaching DDs. As well as we know each other physically, we’ve never really had a good, mature, woman-to-chesticles talk. There are a few things I owe you thanks for, but I also want to clear the air about the times I want to deflate you. I know you are more beauty than brains, so we’ll keep this convo short.

First of all, I would like to be on a first name basis at this point. What do you think of the names Mary-Kate and Ashley? You can be my two rather colossal, identical shoulder boulders. I’m sorry for always squeezing you as my personal stress balls. Sometimes shit happens and I need to grab things. Hard. And it’s better to grab you than a random dick sack. Stop randomly getting hard when I wear sports bras. I’m not Jennifer Aniston in Friends. I can’t pull off the nip style.

Also, tone down the flirting a little. Chances are you aren’t drowning and don’t always need mouth-to-nip.

I hope you’re okay with all of the times my slam, Scott, has sprayed you with his hose. Most chicks our age are mature enough to get a little wet every now and then, and in a way, it’s your fault for turning him on. Truth be told, you are the unofficial boss bitch of my body.

Let’s not tell our future kids about the amount of boob luges you have participated in. Speaking of which, please try to keep your shit together if I ever get pregnant.

You were born in the greatest country in the world, which is precisely why I ensure to let you free at night. America, fuck yeah!

Remember when we let frat guys write their letters across you? That made you very prominent amongst all boys who rush a fraternity. Don’t expect the pictures to be deleted because they will be used for many recruitments in the years to come.

Thanks for getting me out of so much trouble. The amount of driving tickets I would have without you would be overpowering and very expensive.

Please do something to stop every tank top and bathing suit top from looking like they are about to rupture. Also stop being a stubborn bitch and eat the crumbs I feed you.

You still owe me about 50 sticky boobs.

What a loyal friend you are for letting me use you as a distraction during beer pong and other such drinking games. There’s no way in hell I would ever win otherwise.

All in all, thank you for always being there for me. Just know I’ll always support you and keep you lifted when you’re feeling down.

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Kellie Stritz

Kellie, spelled with an "ie," practically resides at Starbucks even though they have yet to spell her name correctly. She's obsessed with the color pink, Elle Woods, and Bitmoji's. Her biggest accomplishment is breaking the record within her sorority for how many standards hearings she has had without getting kicked out. She spends her free time trying to stay tan (i.e. sunburnt) and stalking people on social media.

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