The White T-Shirt Debacle of 2014

There are few things I enjoy as much as a fresh pack of plain white undershirts. (Those few things mainly being cheese, Mariah Carey, and water.)

Plain white undershirts are perfect because they have this strange psychological ability to make me feel magically shielded from the harsh realities of the world, and that’s important. They also provide a nice foundation for all my super fashionable real shirts to rest on while ensuring I don’t destroy them with my repugnant perspiration problem.

I don’t have a repugnant perspiration problem; I swear.

So anyway. Last Sunday I was at Target in search of a new package of these miraculous garments and found a five-pack from Hanes that included three bonus shirts. Eight shirts for the price of five, I thought. This is heaven on a stick! So I bought them and went home and slept really well that night with the delightful knowledge that I’d have the blissful pleasure of wearing a fresh undershirt every day that week.

But then. Upon emerging from the shower the next morning and hastily tearing into the tight plastic packaging, I peeled off the first shirt of the bunch only to find that IT WAS REALLY SUPER fucking TINY. It was labeled “Medium” but was in fact extra-extra-extra small.

I wondered if maybe I had gotten really fat and no one told me, or if maybe Hanes had fucked up and accidentally shipped Target a package of miniature doll shirts to sell to humans, or if maybe there was a dark, evil spirit in my midst shrinking my brand new T-shirts and generally trying to sabotage my life (successfully) just for sport. But the truth is that I had accidentally purchased an eight-pack of boys’ shirts.

Like, for children.

shirtdebacle

Is it just me or does it kind of look like a Taylor Swift-esque crop top?

Since I had destroyed the packaging entirely when opening it (because that’s how I do), I decided to just eat the cost of the boy shirts and return to Target the next day for redemption and a second chance at happiness.

I found a five-pack (no bonus shirts for men, though, which frankly I think is rather ageist and fucked up of Hanes, but whatever) and double-checked to make sure they were definitely not for children. They were not, and so I bought them and went home and slept really well that night with the knowledge that I’d at least have the pleasure of wearing a fresh undershirt for the remaining four days of that week.

But then. Upon emerging from the shower the next morning, I excitedly peeled off the first shirt of the bunch only to find that IT was a FUCKING V-NECK TEE and I only wear crew neck tees, and again it was all my fault because I was so fixated on getting a pack of shirts marketed to adults that I had totally forgotten to make sure they had the right kind of neckline.

And so then I just gave up on life and ate, like, eleven donuts.

Luckily my boyfriend loves white V-neck tees (that weirdo), so I was able to fob those off on him, but still, I’m left asking myself how it’s possible that I could be so absent-minded not once but twice in my attempts to buy a simple pack of white T-shirts. What does this say about my attention to detail in other areas of life? What does this say about humans in general? What does this say about America? Why do I still have eight miniature T-shirts in my possession? Why is life so difficult and confusing and crazy and cruel? WHO MOVED MY CHEESE?

I have no answers. Only miniature T-shirts.

 

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Comments

  1. judymarina says:

    I Love your humor! Thank you for the enjoyable read, and the outburst of laughter….that which is the best medicine for the soul!!

  2. I like how you just casually slip “my boyfriend” in there. That’s the actual point of this post, right?

    • Ha! I was too afraid of jinxing our initial dating stages by blogging about them, and now here I am announcing the relationship via a post about my incompetency at buying white t-shirts. What have I become?

  3. Okay – hey – what boyfriend? This is news – spill!!

    And, I accidentally bought petite yoga pants. Wore them a day before I figured it out, took them back to Walmart anyone to exchange for not petite. Got home. Wore them twice before I realized I exchanged petite pants for more petite pants. I gave up and just kept them. I just wear them around the house when I’m too lazy to change after yoga, so no one will see me in pants that are 2″ too short!

    • I shall be spilling soon, as he’s already been party to a lot of stories I’m still meaning to blog about! 😀

      And OMG thank you for feeling my pain on this! Yoga pants are your plain white t-shirts!!! Perhaps I’ll have to wear those boy shirts around the house? The new boyfriend would probably love (and/or abhor) that.

  4. This post is going down in history. Doug recently accidentally bought a pack of little boys’ underwear.

  5. ^with them on the boyfriend part. Not that I want to pry, but it was just slung so casually in there! But mostly I’m just happy for ya. Someone to give your accidental v-neck shirts to. Hey-oh!

    • Really I should have known that on this blog, of all blogs, casually throwing in a boyfriend reference wouldn’t go unnoticed! LOL. And for that I’m actually thankful! As I am for the accidental V-neck disposal services he offers.

      Thank you for the comment, love! 🙂

  6. LOL! Great post, thanks for the laugh. Use the teeny shirts at glittery clubs?

    • Thank you for the compliment! And OMG at first I read that second sentence as “use the teeny shirts AS glittery clubs” and I was all like “whaaa?” but then re-read and realized that you were in fact making a brilliant suggestion. I’d fit right in at some spots with that size!

  7. A few years ago, I gave my husband a pack of boxers for Christmas. We left town to visit some family soon after, and he just took the pack of boxers to wear over that week. We arrived late at night, and planned to go shopping the next morning. Dear Hubbles took a shower that morning and, after he got out, yelled for me to come into the bathroom. He stood there, holding the world’s tiniest pair of boxers and looking at me incredulously. I had accidentally bought him a huge pack of kids’ underwear. Awkward! Thankfully, we were going shopping anyway, so I bought him some appropriately sized underwear right away.

    All that to say: you’re not the only one who does stuff like that!

  8. I love your ability to see the sweet and funny side of the story where most people would just find annoyance.

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