R.I.P. Hideous T-Shirt

My husband has a t-shirt that someone gave him to celebrate his Master's Degree. It is navy blue with white letters that say "Da Yoopers School for Da Truly Ungifted." Yeah, ha, ha, ha. I guess that was funny at one time. Anyway, the shirt has deteriorated to the point where there are huge holes under both arms, it has permanent stains of unknown origin, the hems along the neck and arms are shredded, the front is attached to the back by threads, and the holes along the collar are so big the tag just falls out the other side.

I hate this shirt. It is stretched out completely and just hangs on him like a rag. Worse than a rag. Every rag I have is in better shape than this shirt. Still, he insisted he liked it and it was "comfortable" to wear with his lounge pants around the house. (Even he would never wear it out in public.) I don't know why it would be any more comfortable than the other 37 worn out t-shirts he owns, but whatever.

I did not have the heart to throw it away, but I did hide it. Whenever he wore it I would wash it (hoping it would disintegrate in the washer) and then hide it way in the back of another drawer. Out of sight out of mind. But he always found it again. (Drat!) Seriously, he looks worse than a homeless person in this hideous thing. The Salvation Army would reject it. The naked savages in National Geographic would not even recognize it as clothing. It's bad.

Don't believe me? Here it is:


This photo doesn't do justice to the holes, but you get the idea. This morning I woke up and it was draped over a chair in the bedroom with a sticky note on it (as you see in the photo.) The note reads, "Do Your Worst." He's giving in. The t-shirt can be put out of its misery. Saints be praised!

So what should I do with it? He is not really the sentimental type, so I don't need to save it and turn it into a wreath or some bullshit. I suppose I could keep it for really yucky clean up jobs where you just want to throw the rag away. The point is, I never have to see it on him again, and it wasn't a battle. He just realized I was right and gave in. Smart move, Baby.