Dear Mom,

I know I'll only be here for another year, but I think I'm still entitled to have a little privacy.

I understand why you let Tracy in this morning; it wasn't your fault she woke me up by pouncing on my slumbering body. It's no biggie, I was only minorly traumatized. Like throwing a sleeping cat into a swimming pool.

I'll forgive you for that one, mom.

But seriously. Can you please stop using my razor? Please?

Your casualness about the matter troubles me.

You have left me no other choice but to write "CAUTION: Megan shaves her legs, armpits, and bikini zone with this razor! Use at own discretion!" with a permanent Sharpie marker on it.

This is not a communal razor.

This is my bikini zone razor.

BIKINI ZONE.

That means... no shave for you!

Who cares if you're hairy anyway, mom? I mean, really? Dad's hairy. You guys are hairy and in love. And it's kinda nice.

Your daughter,
Margaret M. M. Boyle

P.S. -- Why did you guys give me two middle names that start with the same letter as my first name? It makes my signature very awkward. Oh well, I guess it's better than being named "Jeffery." I should be thankful for that.

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