Some women glow in the summer; some glisten in the heat. I sweat like a farmer and smell like a pig. Because of this, I have a personal, constant, and justified fear that I stink to high heaven most of the time.
And sometimes I know it for sure. Case in point: the stinky shirt. (see me wearing the stinky shirt --->)
There comes a day in every t-shirt's lifespan when it's just done. It's been through too many sweaty workouts, too many hot and humid runs, and too many times being left in the washing machine overnight. That day came yesterday. When folding clothes I caught a whiff of one of my favorite race t-shirts and decided it was time it was retired to the bin. So I'm sad. I loved that shirt, man. It was soft, broken-in, it fit well, and it was only a couple of years old. I guess it has been a sweatier-than-usual couple of years.
I blame global warming.
So anyway, a moment of silence for my stinky shirt is in order for today. I will miss that shirt; it has served me well.
Good day!
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