Monday, 11 June 2018

What if I need to treat my T-shirts better? #WeAreTheProblems



I overthink everything to make the world a happier place

What if I need to treat my T-shirts better?

The T-shirt went for “shirt” status and I admire that.
It could have gone for “vest” but it reached for the stars.
And got my armpits.

And then T-shirt went for a hyphen.
Because apostrophe would be pretentious.

T-shirt and jeans is the uniform of my mid-life crisis.

Looking down, midriff crisis.

I am exactly the right age to pull off a T-shirt.
By pull off I mean wear and under no circumstances remove in public.

Bare chests are for youth.

My chest is improved by oblique pictures and/or big numbers.

I buy them from the finest fashion shops:
Anywhere with the words discount and outlet.

They’re called outlets because that’s the closest word to “waste products” and “rage”.
Which also explains my T-shirts' smell.

I can’t help feeling the 5 labels of care advice is... ambitious.

But the tags help me learn all the poorer parts of SE Asia.

The reason I am sharing all of this is that today I have to let one go.

It’s 40% cotton.

It was 100% but now it’s more holes than cotton.

I don’t know why I find it so hard to let my T-shirts go...
...from that special storage place that just happens to be the same distance I can hurl it from the bed.

When they’re in service, I don’t treat them very well.

I love them because they soak up everything.

This one’s got so much of my DNA, I’m surprised it didn’t just write this by itself.


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What if my eyebrows are too long for this world? #WeAreTheProblems


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