So there’s this old shirt. I’ve had it since the 80s. Bought it at Seaside Heights. It’s a big pink tank top with extra big armholes. I have worn it over a bathing suit, over bike shorts for a workout and, most recently, around my home when I want to be really cool and comfortable.
The thing is, even when it’s clean it’s kind of beyond grungy. Not in a million years would I ever let a man set eyes on it.
See where I’m going with this? Let it out, let him in.
I’m so reluctant to let it go, though, that I told the one person I knew would pull no punches — my friend, Mary, whose specialty is simplifying people’s lives. She was oh-so-subtle last night after we parted at my doorstep — “Enjoy wearing that shirt for the last time.”
Oh God. Accountability. What have I done?
Mary told me to make sure to replace it with something and suggested the Victoria’s Secret “Pink” line. Hmmmmm. The tank top is pink. Pink for pink, at least in theory.
Sounds like a plan.