Dear Giant Undies,
I’d like to wish you well for your retirement.
You’ve served me well over the years, but I’m no longer in need of your services.
We’ve been good friends you and I. You’ve hidden my muffin top and dealt with my butt cheeks admirably. I fondly remember the time you held it all together underneath the clingy green dress of doom.
You never complained when I asked so much of you. I stretched you too the brink at times but you took your job seriously and you concealed all the wobbly bits with a sense of pride and confidence.
I know you often compared yourself to Bridget Jones’s granny knickers, but to me you’ve been so much more than an unsightly undergarment. You’ve been a huge support, I could easily rely on you to be behind the scenes while I took the glory and you’ve backed me time and time again.
There have been so many times that we’ve laughed together, like that time Jeff saw you poking out from under my running shorts and wondered what you were! Oh the good times.
It’s not that I don’t still want you in my life (because I do), it’s just that I have running shoes in my life now and it has meant that I don’t have the same requirement of your services.
You will always hold a very special place in my memories, and I will be forever grateful for your contribution to my life.
I would love to say that I hope we’ll meet again, but I don’t think we will.
All the best, and thank you for your service.
With kindest regards,