Clearly, not having any computer(s) ruined my chances for completing NaBloPoMo. FAIL. There’s always next year, or month, I suppose. I am trying not to be discouraged by this recent turn of events and to help me bring the smiles, I have the perfect Happy Maker. Over the years, I have made some pretty questionable fashion choices. Mostly, hindsight is 20/20 and I don’t realize the full extent of the Ugly until I look at a picture. I have also been victim of the Special Event Outfit. Those are the times that I must purchase the dress or skirt or whatever, knowing that I’ll never deign to put such a hideous garment on my body again. Like a Bride’s Maid Dress, for example.

The item I am showcasing today would not be one of those times. It is a shirt made from another shirt. As in, a designer looked at a man’s dress shirt and thought, “How can I prettify this, so that a woman can wear it? How can I make this shirt better?” And then, he/she came up with this:

Oh, the horror! And, no, there is not enough fabric for this to be a wholly covering garment. As in, there is no back. Wait. Let’s take a better look see.

Clearly, I can’t explain what I was thinking when I bought this disaster, but it couldn’t have been: Gee, I look awesome! I’m not even sure I can properly explain what I am seeing. It is half of the front of a man’s dress shirt and half of the back of the dress shirt made in to one, whole shirt. By definition, this shirt should be a rag. This is not what a button down shirt should be made of, but should be made into.

I think we all need a closer look. Obvs.

Gah! It hasn’t gotten any better! Ignoring the tattoos and that jelly roll disguising itself as my stomach, I have no good excuse for this rag parading around as a shirt. Shield your child’s eyes, minimize this window until your boss walks by because I’m pronouncing these images NOT SAFE FOR ANYWHERE. Especially not for someone to wear. In public.

The shirt itself is scary enough, but take a moment and look at the second picture again. That tag? I can’t cut it out without damaging the shirt. Which, I suppose, wouldn’t be a bad thing as this shirt deserves to be burned, but what if I chose to wear it out in public? That tag would be the equivalent of a pocket protector. Extremely Dorky. And look more closely here:

Those buttons? They serve no purpose. What really holds the whole piece together is two strings one should use to hang themselves with tie around the back. I am just one loose knot away from tragedy.

Here’s the thing: In the five years that I’ve owned this shirt, I’ve never even worn it. I’m not sure this shirt would go unseen (or unlaughed at), so I’m positive the wearer needs copious amounts of alcohol self-esteem to wear it. Amounts of which I no longer have, nor am I sure if I ever did. Thus, this shirt has got to go. Where to donate it? I’m pretty sure The Salvation Army and Goodwill don’t accept handkerchiefs or rags. No friends of mine would ever wear such exotic (read: hideous) duds. Do you want it? I know you do. I know you’re ready to partay in this shirt. I know you have the perfect skirt/pants/shorts. I kid! Obvs. You really just want to frame it to immortalize my Bad Taste in clothing.