Dear Sir

Dear Guy in the Powder Blue Ensemble at Fred Meyers,

While I'm flattered that you found me attractive enough to give yourself whiplash while strolling through a public venue, arms laden with sundry items and perishables, there are some things you need to take into consideration. First and foremost, there is a fine line between a subtle glance at an intriguing stranger and the leering grin of a potential stalker. You might be a wonderful and caring person, but it's a little hard to see that while you're twisting yourself near in half staring at me while never once slowing your forward momentum nor changing the direction of said progress down the aisle. Secondly, and probably most importantly, even if I were to find you attractive (the fact that there was a long list of reasons why this would most likely not be the case aside) there's something about having a cart full of extra-absorbent toiletries, assorted vitamins and fiber pills, and a small assortment of chocolate-frosted sugar-bombs that does not put me "in the mood" for the attentions of gentlemen. Much like when I'm trying to angle myself for minimum visibility at the pee trough in the men's room, I'm at the food market for a very specific reason, and I can assure you that that reason has nothing to do with things going into or out of my pants unless they're comfy and unflattering underwear. I just have my priorities, and at the market they revolve around at-register price reductions and four-for-five-dollar specials.

So please, sir, spend a little bit more time during your morning routine in front of the full-length mirror practicing your subtle glance. It will keep the objects of your desire from experiencing brief moments of panty-soiling terror as they wonder if they're going to have to apply for yet another restraining order, and your lower back will really thank you for not getting twisted into such odd contortions on such a regular basis.