Day 1: I love you new t-shirt! You fit me just right and we share the same love of Muppets! Best friends foreverrrrr!
Day 2: Why does my sweat smell like hot garbage?
Week 2: I should really do the laundry so I can wear that new t-shirt again.
Week 3: Where's that t-shirt I just got?
Week 4: Tween daughter, I'm flattered that you like my style, but please stop stealing my clothes. Also, eye-rolling is not a sport. You're not getting any Gatorade endorsements for that.
Week 5: I should really do laundry so I can wear that one shirt. Just one more episode of Lost. Netflix, you she-devil! *shakes fist and melts back into couch*
Week 6: Well, hello snappy Kermit shirt. We meet again. Let's go eat something laden with barbeque sauce. With our hands.
Week 7 (and 7 washes later...): Hey Kermie, I... wait, is that my bellybutton?
This is a recurring problem around here. Girl meets shirt, falls in love. Shirt meets wash cycle, girl's torso is suddenly too long. I've found that women's fitted t-shirts are the worst in this department. Even when only washed in cold water and hung to dry, the armpits shrivel up or the hemline creeps up to my boobs. Old Navy tops are repeat offenders, which is sad because they gave me a pretty solid line of credit at that joint.
Until I discover how to neutralize whatever nuclear radiation that is slowly mutating my t-shirts, I'm coming up with new ways to recycle them. One way is to amputate the waist and stitch on a lightweight skirt. This is a cute style that I can use to pass weirdly shrunken t-shirts down to my daughter, or even wear myself for a funky summertime look. Get the tutorial...