Dear Yakult,

I've always been loyal to you but you abandoned me. You know that I'm your biggest fan and yet, you gave up. For years, I've been trying to explain why you seemed to underestimate yourself. Before, one bottle of you didn't satisfy me - nor two, nor three, nor ten. I had to drink gallons of your cultured milk to get enough. You were too addictive and popular and omnipresent. You used to be sold by men willing to walk under the hot sun with a bell in hand just to share your live-bacteria goodness to thirsty passers-by. If they'd buy one bottle, they'd want more.

When Chamyto arrived, you bowed. That fake b*****. That second-rate, trying-hard, copycat. That genie gained all credibility. How can those stupid kids drink and enjoy cultured milk with a beer-bellied genie that made me want to puke out all the live lactobacilli? Who knows, Chamyto could make their tummies beer bellies too.

Yakult by Ashton Rael on Flickr under CC BY-NC-SA license
Still, you withdrew under the curtains but the show wasn't over. You let that Chamyto genie take over as lead actor. You should've played Jafar at least. I even used to think that you could save the world from bad stomach. But instead, you hid at the corner of Mercury Drug's fridge, unseen by your supporters, your fans.

Yesterday, I drank you again. All the happy childhood memories that you brought came back like thunderbolts. You've always been so good, Yakult. So good.

Mad and in love with you,