dear Gap,

Gap, sweetie, could we talk for a minute? I know it's not often that I visit you and it's even more infrequently that we talk like this, so right off you should know this is serious.

I try to love you but sometimes you make it so difficult. Really, who wants a sweatshirt dress that is frayed around the edges and so short that I thought it was a regular sweatshirt at first? Not me, and definitely not my thighs. And really, capris for men? Obviously you don't want men to have sex because, ewww, I'm not going near any man wearing capris and I don't know any woman that would. Again, ewww.

But really my main problem is the fact that I bought some pants recently, nice grey slacks in the perfect weight (not too thick, not too thin) to wear to work and I had my heart broken by them. I clipped the tags off this morning all excited about wearing my new fancy pants and happily got dressed for the day. I got to work and was going about my business when I noticed it, a slight hole in the outer seam of the left leg.

Gap, did you get that?? A slight hole! Do you know what a slight hole turns into? A full blown hole. And from there it turns into me sitting at my desk with a strip of blindly white thigh showing. Gap, you've seen me in your fitting rooms, you know my office doesn't want to see my thigh, so why did you do this to me? If it was some sort of prank, I fail to see the humor in it. I expect this sort of thing from your younger brother, Old Navy, but you Gap, I expect better from you.

So here I sit, mad at you for your lack of respect for me. Mad because I trusted you and you violated that trust. Mad because I've been made a fool of. Mad because I honestly loved you and that love was unreturned.

Gap, I can tell you this, you may not love and respect me, but I know someone that does; your older brother Banana Republic. You can reach me at his house if you need anything.