Dear Barbie,

Yesterday, we once again shared a noontime workout at the gym. Your preferred equipment seems to be the elliptical trainer and stationary bike, thereby lessening the chance of any unwanted eye contact. I am pretty sure you don’t know who I am but I do have the skinny on the notorious Ms Barbie as it can be difficult to avoid Podunkville’s gossip mill. I can understand your concern with getting your hourglass figure whipped back into shape what with having a baby and all. Sure, you’re still very young and there is no doubt your skin retains an abundance of collagen and elasticity enabling it to snap right back into place with minimal effort, but bearing a child can do a real number on a woman’s body. You probably can’t afford to let things start down that slippery slope to Saggyville thus giving him any reason to let his eyes wander—again. I mean, we both know what happened before. For whatever reason, she failed to hold his interest, but why put the brakes on your torrid affair? After all, it’s not like you held a gun (oh the irony) to his head and physically forced him to desert her. And you certainly deserved some flirtatious male attention after your ugly duckling phase of previous years. I’ve seen old unattractive pictures of you cuddling a sheep or pig or whatever at the county fair as you clawed your way through 4H ranks to blue ribbon bliss. But you moved past that and gloriously bloomed by college, snagging a coveted cheerleader slot and thus basking in sought after praise and hard won attention.

How you tenaciously hooked up with him is unknown to me but the solid fact is you did. Suffice to say he left her and took up with you--a younger, prettier, sexier female who triggered bragging rights, made a terrific arm ornament, and won the title of trophy wife. Today you are the proud mother of his new baby, facing adult responsibilities and the joys and sorrows that accompany that privilege. You have what she formerly had, filling the slot she vacated. But a strange thing happens when vivacious, exciting girlfriends morph into boring, sexless, vacuous wives. The permeating smell of spit up and baby poo along with the daily stress and tedium of living together wreaks havoc with romance. Screaming infants abruptly squelch romantic, candlelit dinners and cold, harsh reality seeps into every crevice of life. But at least you had a legitimate, open courtship to see you through the inevitable rough patches that accompany matrimony. Oh wait. You don’t have that to fall back on, do you? Though he left his spouse once, surely that aberration will never occur again. I mean, it’s not like it’s a pattern with him or anything, right? He’s with you, his soulmate, his dream girl, a changed man, deliriously happy and totally satisfied with the way things turned out.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to firm up those jiggly thighs and work those flabby gluts. I mean, taking precautions with respect to ones looks is just showing caution, wisdom and foresight. No use giving him any excuse to notice a younger, newer model who would jump at the chance to take him for a test drive. You’re the one who wears his revered wedding ring and bears his honored name. No worries, right?