The other day after picking up the little guy, we went to Value World. I find myself wanting to go here when I’ve been sewing to see if there is anything in there that I want to turn into something else.
But then I am overwhelmed by all of the rows and the occasionally aggressive shoppers who cut you off as if they just know that there aren’t enough values for all of you. I wind up hanging out by the men’s shirts. For some reason I am fascinated by them. I am still sad that I didn’t get the outrageous chili pepper shirt I saw there once.
The other thing is that I have a few shirts that used to belong to my grandpa. The shirts are way too big for me even if I try to belt them and pretend that they’re tunics. I’d like to wear these shirts somehow, but don’t want to ruin them with an unpracticed alterations hand.
A + B = C. I bought some shirts so that I can alter them for practice so that when I do grandpa’s shirt, I have something I can hang onto.
I imagine that the shirt here used to belong to a man named Frank. He was a neat and practical man, except that day he hungrily bit into his lunch without first tucking a napkin into his collar. Unable to forgive himself and unable to face the reminder of his haste when it peeked out at him from the closet, he took his shirt to Value World. Shame is the stain stick or whatever he used to erase the stain did a good enough job that I didn’t even see it until the shirt became a skirt, but not a good enough job that there was no stain at all.
Poor Frank.
Because this shirt is so thin, I will have to wear it with leggings or shorts lest I be mistaken for some sort of hussy, floozy or strumpet.
Wouldn’t want that.