Second Skin

As I was going through the closet, I found a few hanger-squatters that I needed to usurp precious closet real-estate from. The yellow shirt developed a funky placket that couldn't lay down (frustrating). The "I have gas!" t-shirt, well, I really don't know what I was thinking with that one. The others were stretched wrong or a bit snug. They went to the Goodwill.

Clothing becomes an extension of ourselves... an interesting exposé of our psychology.

I wish I could wear Hawaiian prints. I wish I could just totally 'peacock'-out with some kind of super-funky cool shirt.

I can't. Might as well ask me to paint myself pink.

I much prefer a simple t-shirt or polo... it just seems more 'natural'. 

It reminds me of spinach. I can't eat cooked spinach, either. I love fresh spinach salads, but you cook the stuff and I can't take it. It's the same sensation as licking a 9V battery. About every 5 years or so, I'll try again but no luck so far.

Maybe I'll try again for a Hawaiian shirt this year.... in pink.

~un-collecting dad