Personal Narrative: How Shirts Changed My Life

“So, you play club soccer?” a raspy male voice from behind me croaked.

I was afraid to turn around because in my mind there would be a peculiar stalker who had spent the last couple years of his life gathering detailed information of my personal life. I cautiously swiveled my head around.

“Yeah, I do...how did you... how did…” He cut me off. “Strikers FC…” I nodded my head even though he had not answered anything and had made my stalker suspicion even worse.

He picked up on my bluff and cackled “Your shirt, dude” then ended this off with a shake of his head and a chuckle to signify that I was not the most intelligent and he was basically a much superior human being. At least that’s how I perceived it.

Look, most of my shirts are slapped on my body without a care in the world. To me, shirts are more of a necessity rather than a fashion statement. In most social situations, you need a shirt. Simple. Right? Actually, it isn’t as simple as you may think. Although most of the shirts

Get this, I was cruising down the streets, listening to music and just having a good time. To my surprise, an old lady, who barely has the strength to speak, whimpered as she glared at my shirt like it was some sort of obscene graffite. “You kids, ahhemm, shouldn’t be playing, hughhh, violent games.” I was wearing a call of duty shirt with a man hiding behind pillars waiting to ambush someone coming out of the corner. Was this a valid reason for a lady to waste one of her inevitable last words to scold me? I don’t think so.

Some of my shirts have the enormous power to label me with messages that have no credibility to the actual person I am! No, I’m not actually a NASA worker. I don’t play bocce competitively. I actually do not have any affiliation with volunteering in last year’s goat cheese taste test. And no I did not actually win a goldfish at last year’s town