The Emperor’s Hawaiian Shirt Has A Yellow Spot

Thanks to the bio-identical hormones and my half-marathon training, I’ve been rapidly traveling down the scales. And yes, I meant “scales.” I still have two scales in my bathroom; craziness runs deep, and weight loss is still new to me.

So, my girlfriend, after listening to me complain every single day about ill-fitting clothes, and probably in her last-ditch-attempt to NOT kill me, suggested I explore a charity thrift store.

Normally, I would think EWWW, that’s absolutely disgusting! But my friend said she shops in second hand stores all the time, and she gets killer deals. Hmmm. I love deals.

Plus, my friend is very clean and neat, and always looks put together; and she doesn’t have any apparent afflictions, diseases or rashes. And she wears great clothes.

I decided I would do it. I would thrift store shop. And I would wash everything three times. And I wouldn’t buy anything thing if it looked too worn or had little sweat-pills on the fabric. Also, I would eschew anything that came in direct contact with private parts. And I wouldn’t buy used workout clothes (this is the South, people sweat a lot). Or shoes. I would not buy shoes. I love shoes. And other people’s feet are just gross.

And I wasn’t going thrift store shopping alone. So I drug my husband and he wasn’t thrilled, but I promised him stuff. And after about five minutes of following me around the store like a sad puppy, my hubs slowly and gradually moved off and wandered away. I didn’t see my husband again for almost two hours, except for when he came back to make deposits into my cart.

In the thrift shop I found several tops, a few pairs of pants and a jacket, all high-end, brand name items. And most of my articles still had the original tags. I was giddy with delight and instantly challenged myself (because apparently for me, running a half-marathon at age 46 isn’t enough of a self-challenge): I am only going to buy “vintage” clothing in 2013; and shoes, workout clothes and underwear are excluded. My hubs rolled his eyes and laughed out loud when I voiced my self-challenge.

You are crazy. Don’t be so extreme. Just relax.

Later at home, Hubs shared his thrift store finds: a couple of designer shirts for our teenage son, and a very new-looking, circa 1950s Guy Romo BPO Elks Club Hawaiian shirt; and then, Hubs showed me online where a similar shirt recently sold on eBay for $358. Hubs paid $3.99, for the shirt he bought on our thrift shop adventure. Hubs was beaming with so much pride, I was certain he was going to email Danielle and ask her to send Frank and Mike down here to check out his “pick.” Although, I really hoped he didn’t. I can’t stand that show.

And now I am worried his 1950s shirt won’t withstand three washings in my LG front loading steam washer; and I’m wondering if the yellowish faded stains near the shoulder of his beloved Hawaiian shirt are age related, or from private parts.

Does anyone have a 1950s washer? Or should I just use some Borax and beat it on a rock three times?


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