dumb but true

ratty old t-shirts

are just like mashed potatoes

in that they are nice

I definitely have comfort foods. Little Debbie cosmic brownies. Peanut butter and saltines. Mashed potatoes. Grits with milk and butter.

But I’ve come to realize that I also have comfort clothes. Now I know that sounds retarded. Everyone has comfortable clothes. But I mean the clothes that you dig out from the bottom of the closet and have a little party because you’ve found them again. I mean the shirt you’ll pull out of the laundry hamper and even though it’s stained with four day old spaghetti o’s and breast milk, you’ll give it a shake and wear it to the grocery store anyway. Comfort clothes.

I have this shirt. I got it my junior year of high school on a trip to New York. I can’t remember the name of the store, but I got it in the only place I ventured into during a sprint through Greenwich Village. It’s a black t-shirt with a white picture of the Bride of Frankenstein. It says, helpfully, "Bride of Frankenstein" at the bottom of the picture.

I love this shirt. But now things are getting a little dicey, literally. The Bride has a hole where her mouth used to be (handy for making gross tongue gestures, but not for much else). There’s also a gaping hole on the bottom right side of the shirt. There are more holes along the neckline and shoulders. The paint is so cracked, you can barely make out who’s in the picture (again, thanks to the handy description, no one is left clueless).
This is the shirt I wear when I’m particularly happy, freaked out, depressed or just in the mood to drink hot tea and look out the window.

This shirt has seen me through high school, a brief stint in Russia, college, Baltimore, myriad vacations, and suburbia.
It’s getting a bit creaky, though. I don’t really mind wearing it with the holes, but I know that every time I put it on now, I risk accidentally ripping a sleeve off, or permanently removing the Bride’s mouth. I feel a little like I should try to find a replacement. Like when your dog dies and you’re supposed to buy a puppy right away. But I would want an exact replica replacement. A Bride clone. And even the magic of Google can’t help me out.

Maybe a trip to New York is at hand. Or maybe I should find a different shirt to encase my neuroses. I have one from ninth grade that runs a close second, but I don’t think I could ever promote it to Top Comfort Shirt.

So keep your eyes open for Bride of Frankenstein t-shirts. I may need a new one soon. but only after this one either a) rots off me in front of my very own eyes or b) disintegrates in the wash. Both of which could happen at any moment.

I need a cosmic brownie.

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