Dear Martha Stewart,

Hi. I know you are very, very busy, but I just have a quick question. Aren't you tired, Martha? I occasionally catch a few minutes of your show after the end of the Today show with the abhorrent Kathy Lee Gifford (I reserve judgment of Hoda as I'm sure she, just beginning her prime-time career, would co-host with Hitler if he could read the teleprompter) and frankly, girl, you exhaust me.

It is not just your vast media empire (Hubby and I use a James Earl Jones-esque voice when you come up in conversation to say the name of your leviathan company "Martha Stewart OMNIMEDIA") or all of the projects you claim to have a hand in on your Connecticut estate - beekeeping, animal husbandry from chickens to sheep, gardening, etc., (which frankly, I do not buy for a single minute - there is a cast of minions doing your bidding while you tape your show), but Marty, isn't it fatiguing being so damn prim and proper all the time?

To begin, the wardrobe. Come on. I know those button down shirts probably cost more than my mortgage payment, but when you're gutting a pumkpin or decoupaging a dresser wouldn't a nice, long-sleeved T-shirt and pair of jeans be comfy? Trust me, they are.  Then you wouldn't have to move around in such a stately manner worrying about wrinkling your duds.  An old college sweatshirt also comes in handy.

And the speech. I don't need every word carefully enunciated. The way you says "herb", by the way? Like the man's name? It's not winning you any fans other than men named Herb. And your producers must want to pull their hair out at the snail's pace of your oration. That slow and deliberate way you speak makes me roll my eyes and wag my hand in the "out with it" gesture. I myself can speak so quickly and with such a Bronx accent when aggitated people can not understand me. Don't you ever want to scream, or shriek with laughter? Don't you ever want to use phrases like, "Screw this" or "What the hell?" I know you can't curse on national television, but the FCC approved equivalents would be fine. You know I don't trust people who don't swear and added to that list - people who are too reserved. You've made it, lady, now's the time to let your carefully frosted hair down and let us see the real you. And if this is the real you, I pity your daughter.  No wonder she seemed like such a cold fish on The Apprentice.

So I am extending an open invitation to you, Martha.  Come on over to my place for Halloween and we'll eat micro-waved chicken nuggets on paper plates while my children run around in their store-bought Halloween costumes in the glow of the jack-o-lanterns I made using an old gravy spoon and a dull kitchen knife.   You'll see how liberating imperfection can be.   Because after a few glasses of wine, everything looks perfect.

Sincerely,

Mary