Can someone please tell me what I was thinking yesterday morning when I put on the shirt with the frenetic, zig-zaggy, black-and-white striping?

The shirt with the trompe l'oeil-esque effect sure to bring on seizures in anyone suffering from any sort of seizure disorder?

The shirt vaguely reminiscent of those black-and-white vintage hypno-psycho gadgets one sees sadistic psychiatrists twirling with malevolent glee in John Waters films?

The shirt that I blithely (gah!) stomped around in all day long during my longest teaching day of the week?

Because okay . . . there were some Unresolved Laundry Issues in play here.

But nonetheless, what sort of Sartorial Ill Wind was blowing through my bedroom closet yesterday morning to prompt me to do such a thing?

Could I have subconsciously intended to spend the entire day subliminally broadcasting the following message about myself: I Have Finally Met My Secret Animal Totem And That Totem Is A Deranged Zebra?

Or did I really mean to say: I Am At One With My Internal Deranged Zebra?

What kind of person does a thing like that?

Wouldn't I have been better off to have worn the Very Comfortable T-Shirt?

Wouldn't I have been better off to have stayed at home, wherever that may be?

Exactly. I mean there were the cats, lined up in a row, quizzically tilting their heads at me and occasionally blinking. But they always do that. I don't mean to sound paranoid, but I'm pretty sure that they waited until I was out the door to laugh their feckless feline asses off.

I want a deranged zebra shirt.

I think it's good to break out the crazy, eye-hurty shirts every once in a while, if nothing else as a reminder to. . . not break them out every once in a while.

Wow, that made no sense at all.

Oh, I can relate to this post, because I have an optical illusion/deranged zebra/Mesmer-inspired sheath dress. My sister gave it to me, and fortunately it is almost covered by the solid black coat that came with it. (I see it in my closet and must quickly look away). I've only worn this dress once to teach a workshop, and I was the, er, something of all eyes--pretty sure it was not cynosure, though.

I have a shirt like that, but with colored stripes. I look like an anatomical drawing of yellow and red veins. It's a crime, indeed. Let's not do it again. I have another shirt which is very much a tonic-- calm yellow. It's my anti-depressant shirt. It mellows those around me, some times, it makes them sleepy to look at me.

this would all be solved of course if ppl just went naked lol.

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