My coworker Stephanie should give up calling it “expresso.”

My dentist should give up asking me about my weekend plans when both of his hands are in my mouth.

My mom should give up making promises she can’t keep, like the time she promised to take care of my Tamagotchi when I gave it up for Lent in 1997.

My cousin Ashtyn should give up trying to recruit me to sell Herbalife on Facebook.

Speaking of Facebook, my aunt Debbie should give up tagging me in pictures of Jesus holding binoculars with the caption “HE’S WATCHING YOU.”

Or even just the CAPS LOCK BUTTON.

My mom says I should give up talking about the Tamagotchi incident every single year. But first, she needs to give up insisting that she thought it would come back to life on Easter, like Jesus.

My boyfriend should give up my allotted 50% of the blankets at night, instead of stealing them all.

My downstairs neighbors should give up on the thing they call a “heavy metal bagpipes band.”

My mom should give up reminding me of how my older sister Jessica “won” Lent of ’97, when all she did was cheat and “give up” Pizza Lunchables, which our parents never bought us anyway.

My doctor should give up looking concerned when I joke that I’ve been drinking wine since second grade—first communion, doc!

My boss should give up using Comic Sans in her emails. Forever, not just during Lent.

My sister Jessica should give up rubbing things in my face, like how her own Tamagotchi is still alive after 25 years (can you believe it?!) and like she did in Lent of ’05 when I gave up chocolate and she ate Hershey bars in front of me every chance she got.

The CVS cashier “Brian” who always asks me to sign up for the reward program should give up hope. I just want a chocolate bar.

Jessica should also give up gloating all 40 days after every Ash Wednesday when she gets a perfect ash cross on her forehead, and I end up with a smudge. My mom should give up saying I have a “difficult forehead.”

Also, can they both stop telling me I’m going to hell just because I unknowingly ate bacon bits in my salad on a Friday during Lent of 2012?

My roommate who’s an aspiring actor-model-pyrotechnic artist should give up her dreams before she sets our apartment on fire.

My mom’s church friend Cheryl should give up insisting that her marshmallow salad is healthy just because it has tiny skinless apple pieces in it.

My mom should give up denying that she has a favorite kid. We all know it’s Jessica because she’s prettier, smarter, and didn’t accidentally trip and spill the entire cup of communion wine over Mom’s eggshell pantsuit during the (only) time our family was asked to bring the gifts to the altar.

If it’s not too much to ask, can Mom and Jessica also give up commenting on Aunt Debbie’s Jesus posts saying that I “really” need Him to watch me extra closely this year? What I really need is an ex– I mean, espresso. Damn it, Stephanie!

Argh, now I give up.

But first, Jessica should give up her Tamagotchi for Lent. I’m happy to watch it for her, and I’ll take great care of it. Promise. And when I see the look on her face on Easter, maybe—just maybe—I’ll come back to life again, like Jesus.