I’m very disappointed in you, microfiber towel.

On a cold and wintery morning, I turn off the hot shower and reach for you through a fog of steam. You look so inviting, so warm and fluffy, like a flattened rectangular teddy bear hanging on a peg in the bathroom, waiting to wrap me in your warm embrace. Your deep, lush pilings, like intestinal villi, hold such promise for quick absorption. Quickly now, no time for delay, for with the shower off the room is already growing chilly, the cold air is rushing in. I grab you and rub vigorously. And rub some more. And yet I’m somehow no drier. And now colder than before. How could this be? This isn’t working. You’ve left me damp, chilled, heartbroken. The promise of absorption was a lie. You don’t absorb, you just push water from one place to the next. I wrap you around me, but instead of a warm dry embrace, you feel….plasticky

Cotton towel would never leave me feeling this way. Even when worn threadbare to the point of transparency, cotton towel always gave his all to mop up after a shower. Absorbing until he can’t hold any more, he can be wrung out and relied upon to absorb some more. He’s a real go-getter. A never say die kid.

Cotton comes from a plant, Gossypium, which grows in dirt. I can relate to that. Where is it again that you come from, microfiber towel? Polyester Land? Does polyethylene terephthalate grow in dirt? What exactly is your primary advantage over cotton? Sure, you’re light weight, which would come in handy if I were climbing Mt. Everest or taking a trip to the moon, but is really insignificant when you’re hanging on a bar in my bathroom. But you’re so soft, they say. Yes, and so is a kitten, but I’m not going to attempt to dry myself with one, although I suspect it would work better than you. I’m sorry, microfiber towel, but it’s over. This just isn’t working out. I’m going back to cotton towel. It’s not you, it’s..well, yes it is you. You suck.

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