An Open Letter to Peacocks

Dear Peacocks (the clothes store, birds and I, we're cool),

I am not angry, I'm just disappointed.

Leggings are the bane of my existence, I need them because tights are trickier than a box of frogs. You were my saviour, Peacocks. You scooped me up and showed me leggings which not only fit my legs, oh no, they were stretchy, and comfortable and had a high waist. They came in two packs, and I got student discount. I loved you, and I loved them.

Then, it happened.

NEW.
IMPROVED.
FIT.

The words we all now know means "LOTS. LESS. MATERIAL."

I bought them anyway, I believed in you.
"They won't do this to me" I thought.
"They can't."

You could. You did.

So now Peacocks, because of your improvements, my magic leggings are about 2 sizes smaller than before, don't get higher than my hips, can't be rolled up to the knee because the ankles are so tight and constantly roll down from the waist. Thanks.

You raised me up, and then you dropped me you bastards.

Yours odd shapedly (apparently)
Stacey.