Stains And Shame: The Horrible Life Of T-Shirts

By Paul Thatcher


When I go to a department store to buy new t-shirts, I hear an audible sigh of released tension when I walk past racks of t-shirts that I decided not to buy. That's because t-shirts can sense a new owner that isn't going to take care of them or treat them with any kind of dignity or respect. That horrid new owner is someone like me.

When I drag my pitiable body out of bed each morning, it is very easy for me to get dressed. I always wear t-shirts and they are always in a big, messy lump of clothes at the foot of my bed. My clean clothes pile is much different then my dirty clothes pile, because it is much smaller and closer to my hand when I sit on the edge of my bed.
One of the absolute worst parts about being one of my t-shirts is that I am, unfortunately, a giant fat computer nerd. This puts something of a nasty strain on my t-shirts everyday, and everyday they have to be stretched out of shape. Yeah, I put on some weight over the course of the last year. Does that mean I stop wearing my t-shirts I bought a year ago? No sir! They get the stretch-treatment.

As one of my t-shirts, breakfast time is perhaps one of the saddest parts of your day. Since I always eat breakfast like a champion, even if I wake up at lunch, my mind is not exactly sharp and focused for this meal. As such, my t-shirt gets to eat breakfast with me. A little grease here, a little spilt milk there, and then we're out the door and on our way.

The rest of your day is spent mostly functioning as t-shirts function...as clothing. A good 10% of your day, however, is spent as my personal bib/napkin. It is far too much trouble looking for an actual napkin, so you get the gritty task of cleaning undesirable messes from my fingertips. Gravy, motor oil, and bacon grease are all likely to end up as new stains that will take several washes to make disappear.

After your long, hard journey is over you are shunted from off my sweaty back and placed in the other pile of clothes in my room. This pile is for dirty t-shirts, and the like. You are far to dirty to wear again, so it's in the wash you must go. Typically, this could take several days. If you happen to join the dirty pile on wash day, however, you are in luck.

Your experience in the wa
The rest of your day is spent mostly functioning as t-shirts function...as clothing. A good 10% of your day, however, is spent as my personal bib/napkin. It is far too much trouble looking for an actual napkin, so you get the gritty task of cleaning undesirable messes from my fingertips. Gravy, motor oil, and bacon grease are all likely to end up as new stains that will take several washes to make disappear.

After your long, hard journey is over you are shunted from off my sweaty back and placed in the other pile of clothes in my room. This pile is for dirty t-shirts, and the like. You are far to dirty to wear again, so it's in the wash you must go. Typically, this could take several days. If you happen to join the dirty pile on wash day, however, you are in luck.

Your experience in the washing machine with the other dirty t-shirts is not a pleasant one. I have learned a long time ago that it takes really hot water to get out most food stains, so you are punished severely for my sloppiness. You will most likely shrink, but your ritual morning-stretching will return you to the appropriate shape and size.

Let us all hope for your sake that people never get reincarnated into inanimate objects. Most people are good, but a few may be awful enough to be sent back to earth as one of the t-shirts belonging to a socially awkward, disorganized, fat nerd.




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