Oh Ross, how can I ever possibly thank you properly for all that you've done for me?
Yesterday, I needed it. I needed it real bad. And you gave it to me!
It's no secret that something's been missing from my life for a very long time. Something that's left me feeling incomplete and exposed.
Until yesterday's fateful Saturday morn, I despaired of ever finding one who could fulfill my exacting demands and selfish desires as well as appreciating my cascading rolls of fat that I coquettishly like to refer to as "lovely lady lumps."
And then came you, Ross.....beautiful, beautiful, you.
For years I've tried desperately to deny how special you are, even going out of my way to distance myself by speaking ill of you in front of friends and family. I even remarked that I wouldn't ever visit with you or see you again-we both know I'm a dirty liar. Truth is, I just can't stay away from you, my dearest Ross. You're just so inviting. I'm no longer ashamed to let everyone know the deep and abiding love we share with one another.
Despite having to pay you for your services, Ross, that doesn't cheapen our relationship--not for one instant! You were worth every penny, too!
Thanks for providing me with all-day comfort at a low, low price. Not to mention how you hug my curvy hippo hips without ever doing anything rude or untoward like chafing my thighs or invading my butt crack.
I hope I don't wear you out too soon! I have a habit of doing that to the ones I love.
My husband, Papi told me I'm not allowed to visit you until next month. Blah, blah.....something about finances and budgets.....blah, blah. He just doesn't understand us and the gravitational pull we have for each other, you know?
I'm sure I can break away for a heart-pounding rendezvous with you sometime in early January. Keep the light on for me, okay?
All My Love,
Elasticwaistbandlady (Who Finally Has Some Comfy Non-Elasticwaistband Jeans!)
P.S. Ross, could you please tell your business associate friends that fat ladies don't necessarily like all of their pants/jeans to be freakin pedal pusher capris or made of knit cotton--especially in the winter. If we were truly pedal pushers-as the misnomer garment name implies-we wouldn't need to be purchasing a size XXX, now would we?