An open letter to Miley Cyrus

Dear Miley,

Hey girlfriend.  How've you been?  I see you are still making music.  That's nice.  You've always liked the whole music thing, right?  Look, Mile-igator.  We need to talk.  It's just that...I don't know if we can keep doing this.

Don't get me wrong, I've been nothing short of a devoted fan.  In the not so distant past, my favorite TV show was Hannah Montana.  I had a Hannah Montana sleeping bag that lit up whenever it was touched.  I even had socks with your face on them.  Do you understand?  I wore your face on my feet every single day.  So I want you to know that this isn't about your past.  Really.  It's not.

I just think we've gone our separate ways, you know?  You smoke a bong and I'm not even entirely sure what a bong is.  You are really good at hip thrusting and I'm fairly positive that if I ever tried to pull off one of your dance moves, I would injure myself horribly.  You like to wear things that make your boobs look awesome.  I like to wear Star Wars shirts.  Do you see what I'm getting at here?  We're just different people, Mile-inator.

I'm really sorry, honest.  I wanna back you up here, but I don't know where to start.  When you got all naked sexy sheet-tastic for Vanity Fair, I defended you.  I figured that everyone is entitled to their own choices, even a preteen icon.  I still think that, Miley.  I do. 

When you suddenly popped up all over the internet in your underwear, I felt bad for you.  I felt bad that the media would inevitably bombard you with criticism and meanness.  I thought you probably would be really upset.  I was totes on your side, Miles.

And heaven knows that when your new music video came out and I saw you shakin' your thaaaang and crooning about how you simply cannot be tamed, I said, "Wow.  That girl does NOT want to be tamed.  Huh."  I might have shaken my head in disappointment, Miley, but I didn't condemn.  I still don't condemn.  I want you to know that.

Wow.  Is this as hard for you as it is for me?  Because this is really hard for me. 

Now, there's the bong video.  And there's that lap dance you gave your director.  Also, all that sexy-time dancing and sexy-sexy-time outfits.  I'm not really diggin' it, Miley.  Not at all.  But the real truth, the reason that we are totally over, isn't so much about any of that. The real reason is so much deeper.  So much more painful.  It's...well, it's your legs.

CURSE YOU, Miley!  Curse you and your hot, long legs!  Why?!?!  Why must I be tortured with jealousy every time I see them?  They look freaking AWESOME in heels.  They make your skirts and dresses incredible.  I HATE YOUR LEGS.  SO MUCH.  XOMGsfWIEAHOGIWIH!@@!!!!

I'm glad we had this talk.

Love,
Megan