The following is a reprint of a previously published post. Enjoy!
Hello, gorgeous. I’ve been thinking about you.
We’ve been together almost twenty years now, and your allure beckons as much as the day we first met. I got you on the rebound from the furniture-selling Van Gronas. The classified ad in The Village Voice was officially for a couch, but your hefty beauty stole my heart. That couch is long gone. But here you are, still with me, still nourishing my secret shameful need — extra iron in my diet.
Other pans have come and gone. Le Creuset with flashy colors that soon appeared dated. Non-stick, with its possibly carcinogenic lining. But your matte black surface, so silky, so smooth, so — dare I say it? — sensuous. Your hotness never goes out of style.
Sometimes I think I may have loved you too much, but a slow gentle caress with an oily rag revives your former loveliness. If only that were all it took for my youthful beauty to return. Like Dorian Grey, you appear to never age.
(Botox, Katy? No thanks, I’ll just rub my face with an oily rag.)
Other pans may tempt me, but I know we will overcome all obstacles. Our love is that which ignites the heavens. Like Romeo and Juliet, Bogey and Bacall, Charo and Captain Stubing.
If I have not said it before, I’ll say it now. I love you! You had me at iron fortification.
“Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”
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