Oh.

Hello.

I didn't see you there.



I don't know if you remember me

from

Fourth of July

and

Date Night

and

well

literally every single occasion you've had to wear a shirt that isn't

a Hanes tagless tee

for the last

year

and a half.


Christmas

Thanksgiving

Fancy Dinner

I was there for you,

My polyester pleats always crisp

The swiss dots adding a touch of whimsy

My swirly cut forgiving your post-baby gut

Sorry

but

it's a gut.


There's something so sad

about

you

right now.

You've got one shirt?


You're like that guy

who has one joke

he tells

every day

as if we've never heard it before

like an unfunny goldfish.


Girl

for reals

go to TJ Maxx

and buy

another

fucking

shirt.


Oh

and now you've got

a  reading, you say?

Well.

Okay.

I mean

I'm just a shirt, so

I can't really stop you from pulling me out of the closet

and shrugging me on

(buttoning one button

unbuttoning that button

buttoning all the buttons

unbuttoning all the buttons

going back to the one button thing

like you do

literally

every

single

time)

and thinking

okay

yeah

this still works.


Of course I still work.

I'm the same

fucking

shirt.


I guess you could wear me

again

or

stick with me here

you could wear

literally

anything else.