Dear Ironic Cotton Wonder,
I wish I could say my love for you has been consistent through and through, but TBH, we’ve had many an up and down in our relationship.
I first discovered the joy you could bring in 2006 when Abercrombie and Hollister created you in incorrectly-sized, bright colors. You were a staple in the middle and high school halls. You let everyone know I had the ability to make my parents shell out $30+ dollars for a t-shirt just because I wanted it.
I so envied Regina George and her ability to pull of the “A Little Bit Dramatic” shirt. I remember yearning for the day when an ironic statement would look that good stretched across my currently non-existent boobage. I also appreciated your poorly disguised innuendo. I felt like the baddest betch-in-training explaining why a fake ad for Beaver Surf Board Wax on a bro’s shirt was actually hilarious.
Not long after our love blossomed, we had a falling out. For the next eight years I avoided you like the plague. I cringed at your appearance on my less fashionable counterparts; maybe it was because I felt like I had outgrown wearing words on shirts forever, or it could have been that I felt my stellar personality was enough to let the world know I was hilarious and also “Flawless.”
Then, in 2014, you made your way back into my heart. I believe it was God herself, Beyonce, who said “Let There Be Ironic Shirts.” And so it was.
Now I envy the sight of the hair flip emoji girl on the shirt of the beautiful betch running on the treadmill across the gym. I crave the desire for people to know “There’s No Way I Woke Up Like That,” just because they read it on my shirt. I mean, how else would people know the screenplay for Mean Girls is my bible without my “On Wednesday’s We Wear Pink” tank? And can a man be any more attractive than when he sports a “Back to Back World War Champs” design? I think not.
So thank you ironic tees, tanks, and sweatshirts for saying aloud what I cannot. You let strangers know just how chill, funny, and amazing I am without ever having to open my mouth to talk to a stranger. Gross.
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