An Open Letter to Mademoiselle Critic If nothing else, you are indeed predictable. I had only been off the bandstand for a few brief beats and you were right there, clicking and clucking away at me. Per usual, your hair was pulled back in a tight bun. A pencil skirt hugged your freakishly thin frame. You peered over stylish glasses which were perched authoritatively just so on the end of your upturned nose. The sharp manicure made your hands look like weapons, especially…
