Dear Pink-Hooded Robe,

Before I count all the reasons why I love you, may I inquire as to why you have a hood? Admittedly, it IS one of the reasons I love you, I'm still confused as to its function. Like nipples on men . . . I'm always left with, why? I do, in fact, wear the hood; I enjoy wearing the hood. It's just more out of obligation. I never wear you outside (I'm not ashamed of you, it's just that well . . . you're a robe) and it doesn't rain in my house.
There is nothing better than getting out of a hot shower or steamy bubble bath and wrapping you around me. When it comes right down to it, if I had to choose between cuddling with you and another human being . . . well, this letter isn't about hurting anyone's feelings. Let's just say there's a reason you're still in my life and others are not. Nobody does it better, Pink-Hooded Robe.
Even between the other two robes in my life . . . you take the cake, breaking the mold for comfort, form, and durability. You love me when I'm up, you love me when I'm down. I'm sure there have even been days when you've felt like turning me away, but you never could just leave me cold, wet and shivering, could you? That is why it is to you I cry, I put that hood right over my head and I let the tears fall. The love is unconditional and you're still with me in the morning when I wake up, extra tissues in the pocket just in case. Thank you for just being you (a little superfluous with the hood in all, but endearing nonetheless).

Sincerely
all my love,
Cindy Mayweather