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Wednesday, September 21, 2011

What do you do when you see somebody who is worthy of the People of Walmart Hall of Fame wearing an article of clothing you also own and love?

Burn it?  Give it away?  Really, will you ever be able to see it in your closet and not picture the whole frightening image?  (You know, of course, that the image of the offender, down to every tacky, trashy, hillbilly-hooker-goth detail is burned permanently onto your retinas.)

Will you ever be able to put it on, turn a circle in front of the mirror, and say, “I look good in this!”, or will the ever-crisp mental image superimpose itself on your reflection, forcing you to remove it as quickly and fling it away as far as if it were full of fire ants?  Will you inevitably brush off your arm or leg as if it were dirty?  And shudder?

I don’t like to waste or trash things that are perfectly good (or even imperfectly good), so burning or tossing the skirt (in my case, it’s a skirt) isn’t really an option.  I couldn’t give it to a friend, either, because I’d look at her with disgust if I ever saw her in it.  That’s if I found a friend who would even wear it after hearing why I was giving it away.  Do you think I could just hand it off without warning my friend that somebody’s going around Columbia in that EXACT SAME skirt, scaring small children and causing adults to gag?

That leaves giving it to charity.  Unfortunately, I don’t know if I could have it on my conscience that some unsuspecting, thrifty female would think she’d found an awesome skirt, without being warned that its sister skirt is out there - prancing around, waiting to be photographed for a hall of shame.  
At least my skirt’s sister was worn by a female...  I think.

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