I thought the only Peeps I was going to see on Easter Sunday were the yellow chicky candies—until I showed up at Easter mass and saw you wearing a short, white strapless dress, standing in the back pushing your baby in a stroller. I get it. You gave birth. You worked out and lost the weight and managed to keep some of your droopy C-cup Snoopy boobs. But parading around with your head held high as the congregation snickered? Hello! We’re celebrating the resurrection of Christ not the erection of Christ. Then you had the gall to make a rude comment about my weight. Word of advice: close your legs, girl. Not everything on you is tight.