Dear Whitney:

Will you be my Mommy? Seriously. You totally saved the day when Lauren burned her ball gown with the curling iron. You're always so composed, even when you're tripping down the stairs on Live TV. And shame on that Kimball Hastings for giving you the cold stare after telling him you want to be a stylist. Reach for the stars, Whit. Spread your wings. P.S. I don't care what the New York Times says, you're definitely not a "Shakespearean mute."

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