I just came here to write a quick letter, you know how I love them. This one is personal. Highly so. I had not realised, when hearing people speaking of ‘Middle-aged Spread’, quite how literal it was. Good grief. Thus, the letter:
Dear Shiny’s Thighs,
You have been shining (ahem) examples of thighs for the past thirty five years and for that I am truly thankful. In my teenage/early twenty years you even got some pretty fabulous compliments from various admirers, especially after a long summer in the sun when you turned a fabulous golden-brown.
However, this new thing of yours of spreading, like large gloops of peanut butter and syrup off the edges of a hot slice of toast, as I sit, is completely unacceptable. At no stage, ever, in my life have I literally spilled over the side of any chair and I'm not happy about starting now. I fear that you and our butt (also a compliment-elliciting feature in its heyday) may be in cahoots with this – it sliding around to help you out…
Frankly, I wish to hear no apportioning of blame. I would just like you to stop it. Immediately. If not sooner.
P.S. Please pass the message on to our butt too. Thank you.
I wonder if they'll listen?