Dear Oprah....

I still wait everyday for the moment you tell me to pack my bag -- scratch that... won't need to pack a bag cuz you're gonna buy me a whole new wardrobe -- and come live with you and do nothing. I now realize that I can be the one who really helps you. You see, as you are now sharing with the world how upset you are that you have gained all of your weight back and how you won't be able to wear the dress you have picked out for Barack's Inauguration and how embarrassed you are that this is the one thing you can't conquer, I can help you. Clearly, Gayle, Stedman, Bob Greene, all your chefs, and even damn Dr. Oz haven't done their job. But I, yes me, can help you through this. First of all, I think you look fine. Great, even. (I mean, that seriously.) So what you're back at 200 pounds? I couldn't tell and I watch you er'day! You see O, when you have bazillions of dollars, who really cares about weight? You are worried about not fitting in your dress? You see as your special bestest friend, I would just call the designer and tell them to make that shit bigger. You would never know! When the chef makes chicken for dinner, I'll just switch it with Popeyes and just take the skin off, and you will LOVE it! And we'll exercise too! We'll practice doing the choreography to Single Ladies and we'll laugh every time you try to go down and hit the side leg but can never get back up. Oprah this is called living your best life! What is the point of being one of the richest people in the world if you can't enjoy it because you are so caught up on something as silly as weight. I will help you see that you can be a big gurl and love it. Our lives can be so full and rich together. Call me! Please! Luh you, bye!