Lydia

I'm starting these up again, to finish the last half, but...not going in order. Because I have something to say, dammit.

Dear Melissa,

There is absolutely no reason in the world to get up at 6AM to go do fucking "cardio scuplt" or "ultimate conditioning" or even "sunrise salutations." I'm not a sunrise kind of girl unless I'm watching it come up before going to bed, you know?

I get it--you want to bond while we sweat and detox from whatever we managed to mess up in our bodies the day before, and that's fine. After you begged, I said I'd join in on your fitness quest. But for fuck's sake, if you must drag me around to gym classes like a hyperactive squirrel on crack could we please consider these lovely alternatives:

At 1:15PM: Yoga, The Ride, POLE DANCING, BODY ART, and something called Boing with Kangoo. I don't even know what the last two are, but they all sound way more fun than anything at 6AM.

And in the evenings, we have all of those again, with dozens of variations of yoga--including virgin yoga--which okay, neither of us qualifies for--and hippie yoga, which we could, and "turning tricks" which, let's face it, is right up my alley, and even your damn "ultimate conditioning" again.

Just think--you could even save on coffee...and learn to pole dance.

Begging you to stop showing up before the sun's even done so,
Lydia

[ooc: The list of letters and links to others can be found here.]

Joseph used to tuck her hair behind her ear in an avuncular gesture and tell her what a good, sweet girl she was, but when he'd follow it up by shooing her back out to fleece the johns and marks she entertained for him, Lydia was forced to wonder how accurate a picture of "good" he'd ever really embraced.