plywould.

So, some time ago, I purchased a pack of A-shirts (beaters, dago-tees, what-have-you) from a Filene’s Basement or Marshall’s or some other weird department-store-goods dumping ground. I happened to be in Denver at the time, for a wedding and had somehow managed to not pack any undershirts to go… under my (white linen) shirt. duh.

So an aimless, rambling afternoon was spent in an eventually successful search for a-shirts. The ones I found and ultimately purchased were Calvin Klein (ooohhhh, schmancy), sized L, and the cheapest option. Cal saved the day, the wedding, reception, and after-parties were all great fun. yay.

Fast forward to today, when the weather suddenly took this unbelievable turn to spring… the first day in some time, I’ve not worn a sweater to work. The first day wearing just a shirt. The first day I’ve needed an undershirt. The first day I realized I didn’t have any.

How? How did I not have any? Simply put, I wore the hell out of them, they developed holes, and I threw out the lot when winter came… knowing I had plenty of time to restock. It’s winter, yo.

So, this morning frantically searching. I found one of those CK shirts… never worn, crammed into the back of the sock/underwear drawer. Once again, old Cal was here to save the day.

Except.

I don’t know if I’m just smaller than I was then (despite evidence to the contrary) or if time has lessened the elasticity of the damn thing (or if the other was like this and I was just too drunk to notice)… but this thing is all loose and won’t stay put. It’s getting all bunched up inside my shirt, making me look oddly lumpy.

All of which is to say:

Is it weird to tuck your unruly a-shirt into your boxers?