Dear Sun, or, as you may prefer, Lord Ra, the Sky-Bound Radioactive Ball of Radiation,

Today I caught sight of myself in a shop window, and the first thing I thought was who is that short elderly woman in my clothes, and why does she look so tore up? Then I realised it was me, and, oh, how I shook my fist at you. Enough already.

Love,
Rachael's Epidermis.