Dear Jeans,

I am very angry with you.  You just aren’t what you used to be.  Our relationship has become a tug of war that I can hardly endure. 

Where did we go wrong?

I remember when you could go for hours at a time. Now? Please. You can’t keep it together for thirty minutes.  We barely make it out the door before you just relax all over.  Letting me down.. and out.  In fact, I don’t even think you try anymore!

I do my part to sustain our romance. Bathing you in Blue Eucalyptus and Lavender detergent. Then treating you to a nice steam in the hot dryer. Making sure that you are stain and static free.  

But we walk six feet together in public and suddenly you are too big.  Too loose.  Pooling around my ample derriere as though you just are no longer committed. Gaping at the thighs you had once so lovingly clung to!  As though you would rather be anywhere else in the world!

Is there someone else?

No.

Don’t tell me, it’s too late.  Besides, I cannot trust you.  Fresh out of the dryer and full of hot air.  Promising me that this time…this time will be different. 

I have been foolish. Chasing after your kind with reckless abandon.  Calling friends to breathlessly pronounce I have found “the one” over and over again.  Well, no more. 

Society frowns upon either of us being out in public alone. So, I need you. You need me.  There will be appearances to make and obligations we must keep. However, you need to know, our relationship is strictly business from here on out.

Cold hard math.

Oh, one more thing… I hid the bleach.  So don’t even think about harming yourself to get back at me…

Without love or pity,

Amanda