Dear small love handles,
This is a difficult letter to write.
We have been together through so many good times. All those times I put my hands on my hips, and you were there to cushion the fall, as a comfortable resting place for my hands, which otherwise might have had nowhere to go. And all those cold days and nights, when you acted as extra insulation so I could keep warm. You really loved me for me. And when I look at you, I think back to all those crazy fun nights of fettuccine alfredo, creme brulee and oh, the wine.
But things have become a bit awkward. You’re starting to piss off some of my tight shirts. You know you are. Especially my new crinkly tank tops that mysteriously become smooth around the midriff. That is wrong. And now my low-rise jeans keep talking bad about you to me and… well, I just feel overwhelmed and don’t want to be in the middle of it all anymore.
So— ugh, this is so hard!
I just think we need a break. You know, to kind of reassess everything. Specifically, um May – September if that’s cool with you.
Ok, well um, good luck with everything. I hope we can stay friends. In a very distant way. Maybe just like, uh, text message from time to time.