Dear fluffy jog bottoms,
When I was younger I hated you. I refused to wear you and associated you only with “chavs”.
For this I am sorry – I truly am.
I reached for you in my wardrobe today, thanking god that Blighty was finally cooling down enough for me to wear you. You hug me so nicely and are so soft against my skin.
You also forgive me for not dieting over these past few months, even though I promised I would with such conviction. You do not cut into me when I sit down, and you don’t leave a red mark on my skin. You don’t even require a belt to hold you up, you have that handy piece of string that I can just tie up.
You came to me at the time I needed you most, post-partum, bloated and sore. You kept me warm and covered whilst still allowing me to be comfortable, and you will never know how much that meant to me.
You didn’t even mind when I accidentally poured hot tea down you. You kept your cool and just waited to be washed.
Basically, you are always there when I need you. A true friend. Thank you so much.