Dear Ms. Kelly,
Let me tell you a fairy tale about a little girl named Diana.
She grew up to be the prettiest girl in the kingdom, hotter than Princess Cinderella and Princess Sleeping Beauty, in part because of her magical rack. One day, she stumbled across Prince Charming, who was hopelessly enchanted by her face, figure, legs -- the whole package. She became Princess of the Kingdom. They lived happily ever-after for about six months, when the giraffe-faced Prince turned into a mother-dominated dork. Diane moved on to a much cooler crowd -- actors, aerobics instructors and Egyptian playboys, and she would have lived happily ever-after, except for the fact that she ended up smeared across the wall of a traffic tunnel. She lives forever in the hearts of young conspiracy theorists and the memoirs of former royal subjects.
.You are about to marry Derek Jeter.
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You are about to become the Yankees' Princess Diana.
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We, your loyal subjects, are excited. We watched you stick with that star quarterback-turned-paraplegic, long after he became crabby. You didn't drop him. He dropped you. You showed guts. Remember when you hooked up with the fullback, your fiance's best bud, and everybody found out, and all the girls were harping about you, but you came back and led the team in the cheerleader cheer-offs, anyway? That showed us something, sister.
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But this is no cheerleader cheeroffs. Your new role is not going to be just parades, Jumbotron kisses and free Yankee Stadium hotdogs. You must comfort Yankee fans after terrible defeats. This is going to be worse than visiting leper colonies. Frankly, you'd have a better time at leper colonies. It's going to be a bumpy ride, but congratulations, ever after.
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One other thing: avoid Egyptian playboys.
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