One of the saddest things ever is having a closet full of clothes you would never wear again (at least in your right mind) - like that acid wash jeans you once thought was so cool, or the sputum-colored Palaro t-shirt you wore one drunken night, or even that Lacoste knockoff you bought that's already faded from far too many washes. I decided to clean up and make some closet space by checking each item one by one, and sorting out the "wearables" from the ones I'd give away.
It's amazing how much I've spent on cheap ass shirts, judging from the pile. If only I could go back in time and buy a quality shirt instead, in exchange for everything I've spent on these dingy Php120 a piece T-shirts. I stopped dead in my tracks- at the bottom of the cabinet were three items of glaring green, red, and yellow, all made of 90% polyester.
The first item was a satin-looking (I emphasize the resemblance only, because the fabric was more itchy than luxurious to touch) green muscle shirt, with blue accents around the neckline and sleeves. I remember these- I bought it from the very first Penshoppe boutique at Dynasty Square back in '97. I was 16, and the shirt was a graduation present for myself.
The unfortunate thing was, I weighted about 98lbs at that time- no fat, and no muscles either. Damn, it looked so great on that mannequin at the store window- and since it was a bit pricey (Ok it was 300 bucks, but in 1997, for a high school student in Leyte- that was already more than what one would normally spend on a shirt) I was the only one who had it. I wore it once when my friends and I went out- my collarbone stood out like a couple of trusses, the skin on my arms pale and thin- emphasized by the muscle shirt's color. "You need to gain weight!" Exclaimed one of female friends. From that moment on, I swore to eat two cups of rice every meal and never wear the shirt again.
The red shorts I picked up next looked like the lower half of a basketball jersey (although I never played basketball)- and If I remember correctly, this one was purchased in 2003 when I started going to the gym. I gained weight alright, even a bit of muscle that time. There was a stain in the fabric, which I gather was the reason why I never wore it again.
The last item was a pair of yellow swim trunks. The design was quite simple: plain solid color with 3 red and white diagonal stripes near the crotch area. It was neat- not too plain, not too out there. Even the cut was perfect. So I decided to try it on again to see why it remained for years at the bottom of my closet.
As I slid the stretchy fabric up my legs, I had to wriggle a little bit. It was tight around thigh area- a little bit more and it would have cut off my circulation. As I checked myself in the full length mirror I suddenly knew why: at the front, it looked like one of those low-cut things men with washboard abs wore (so in short, it was unforgiving with my tiny paunch- unless I held my breath the entire time I wore it, it would never work), the back part was obscene. It could only contain half my butt, and it was a major cleavage situation down there. I felt bad discarding it though, since that thing was kind of sexy.
I put my clothes back on and wrapped up the sorting. I smiled to myself- funny how a bunch of old clothes could take me on a trip down memory lane and those errors in fashion judgment. I stood up and went to the storage area where we keep most of the things we don't use. The day ended with 25% more closet space for me after discarding all my old clothes- well, all of them, except the speedo.
It's amazing how much I've spent on cheap ass shirts, judging from the pile. If only I could go back in time and buy a quality shirt instead, in exchange for everything I've spent on these dingy Php120 a piece T-shirts. I stopped dead in my tracks- at the bottom of the cabinet were three items of glaring green, red, and yellow, all made of 90% polyester.
The first item was a satin-looking (I emphasize the resemblance only, because the fabric was more itchy than luxurious to touch) green muscle shirt, with blue accents around the neckline and sleeves. I remember these- I bought it from the very first Penshoppe boutique at Dynasty Square back in '97. I was 16, and the shirt was a graduation present for myself.
The unfortunate thing was, I weighted about 98lbs at that time- no fat, and no muscles either. Damn, it looked so great on that mannequin at the store window- and since it was a bit pricey (Ok it was 300 bucks, but in 1997, for a high school student in Leyte- that was already more than what one would normally spend on a shirt) I was the only one who had it. I wore it once when my friends and I went out- my collarbone stood out like a couple of trusses, the skin on my arms pale and thin- emphasized by the muscle shirt's color. "You need to gain weight!" Exclaimed one of female friends. From that moment on, I swore to eat two cups of rice every meal and never wear the shirt again.
The red shorts I picked up next looked like the lower half of a basketball jersey (although I never played basketball)- and If I remember correctly, this one was purchased in 2003 when I started going to the gym. I gained weight alright, even a bit of muscle that time. There was a stain in the fabric, which I gather was the reason why I never wore it again.
The last item was a pair of yellow swim trunks. The design was quite simple: plain solid color with 3 red and white diagonal stripes near the crotch area. It was neat- not too plain, not too out there. Even the cut was perfect. So I decided to try it on again to see why it remained for years at the bottom of my closet.
As I slid the stretchy fabric up my legs, I had to wriggle a little bit. It was tight around thigh area- a little bit more and it would have cut off my circulation. As I checked myself in the full length mirror I suddenly knew why: at the front, it looked like one of those low-cut things men with washboard abs wore (so in short, it was unforgiving with my tiny paunch- unless I held my breath the entire time I wore it, it would never work), the back part was obscene. It could only contain half my butt, and it was a major cleavage situation down there. I felt bad discarding it though, since that thing was kind of sexy.
I put my clothes back on and wrapped up the sorting. I smiled to myself- funny how a bunch of old clothes could take me on a trip down memory lane and those errors in fashion judgment. I stood up and went to the storage area where we keep most of the things we don't use. The day ended with 25% more closet space for me after discarding all my old clothes- well, all of them, except the speedo.
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