At the risk of appearing as if I am obsessed with T-shirts, let me preface this post by saying the photos contained herein have more to do with exercise, biology, chemistry and general grunginess, laziness and kookiness than they have to do with this ordinary cotton T-shirt...
...which, by the way, has the uncanny ability to make me feel like a cross between Napolean Dynamite and Wonder Woman while I'm wearing it.
My "HERO" T-shirt has been mine since the year I earned it by convincing some coworkers and my boss to pony up cash for my first-time-ever foray into volunteer work: a 10-mile trek throughout the streets of Manhattan with 9,999 others to benefit the March of Dimes in WalkAmerica 2000. For obvious reasons, this shirt was safely tucked away from the world for years, but, a year ago, I starting digging it out for trips to the gym. That helps to explain the white ring: salt.
Now that I'm not busy at work anymore, I go to the gym five times a week alternating two pairs of shorts and two shirts as workout gear. I do laundry once every few weeks. It doesn't take much punching of buttons on a calculator to deduce that my workout clothes get pretty grungy as it gets closer and closer to laundry day, usually the third Sunday of every month if, and only if, all the following conditions have first been met: if a full moon has been spotted in the night sky by 10:15 p.m. within the previous three evenings, if Venus is on the rise and rests within 2.5 million miles of Neptune and if I possess enough quarters to overflow the English Channel.
I just sniffed at this shirt, and it doesn't yet seem quite ripe enough for scrubbing. It just needs a good scratching, and it will be as good as new.