She was once magnificently red; the deep, rich red of a pricked finger's blood, the vibrant, molten red of a damp summer night's sunset. But that was long ago. Lately, like her master, she has shown her age, and in her world, she is old indeed. Now she's more blush than bloom, more ruddy than ruby. But I loved her still, and her demise tears at my heart.
She's never had arms. To some that would be a detriment,
but to me it was a godsend. She was perfect without them. Because of
this imperfect perfection I was drawn to her every morning she was
available. She was so sweet, so light, so... comfortable. She was also
long; so long that her waistline hung down well below my own, the edge
of her extremities hugged her master's behind, and in the fore prevented
anyone from noticing a gaping opening should her lord forget to raise
his zipper during his sleepy dawn routine.
But after thousands of
turns in the infernal bubbling machine, and hundreds of days being
proudly displayed upon the torso of her man, she had begun to lose her
effectiveness. Her seams were white, the thread and tape showing through
her thin skin. And today... today, was the darkest day of all.
"You're not gonna wear that to work are you?"
"Well, ya think I'd have it on if it wasn't the plan?"
"I can see your belly!"
"Of course you can see my belly, it's as big as a Volkswagen, everyone can see my belly. What's your point?"
"No, I mean I can see your skin on your belly."
looked downward. She was right. The layers of shirt flesh had been
peeled away for so long that holes had appeared, small holes to be sure.
It looked as if a moth had dug its claws into a piece of gauze while
being dragged kicking and screaming away from it's noon time snack; It
seemed as if a teacher has spattered hydrochloric acid on himself while
showing his students how to fry bacon without using fire. I too, could
see my belly. And while I do happen to labor, and while my bosses are
immune to my bad taste in clothing, and while I could easily have worn a
coat over the poor shirt all day, hiding its holes from a
cluck-clucking public, it was obvious that to continue wearing the likes
of her, would be beyond the pale, even for the likes of me. I slid her
smoothness off my 56AA chest and grabbed a hanger.
"You're not saving that stupid shirt are you?"
I covered her neckhole, hoping she wouldn't be able to hear the hatred being spewed.
"Of course I am. She's fine. I just can't take her to work with me but I can certainly cuddle with her at home."
"For God's sake! Just throw it out!"
hate it when she guilts me with God. It's bad enough to disappoint her,
but disappointing the Supreme Being is more than I can bear.
old red, is in the circular file tonight; her long life over, her
usefulness eliminated. I'm not sure how I'll cope. I had two reds and
two blacks... and now... I am... asymmetrical! Life, is only hard.
Losing a loved one, is Hell!