Amanda’s checkered shirt was her least favourite shirt.
It had been an impulse buy in her younger days. She had worn it when she wanted to get noticed, it being just a little too small for her. But she hadn’t put it on in years, and it languished in the back of her closet.
Through those years, Amanda’s life had changed. She graduated from University. She got a job, and later was promoted. She went through three cycles of wardrobes.
The shirt stayed in her drawer.
She would pick it up when going through her clothes, occasionally think of throwing it out. But it was a good shirt. She had met an old boyfriend in it. She had worn it to one of her favourite concerts. She had been wearing it when she received the call about her current job. And if she was honest with herself, she hoped that it would fit properly one day and that she could be one of those cute checkered-shirt wearing girls who didn’t look trashy.
Amanda picked up the shirt and looked at it. She looked at herself, and wondered if she had lost any weight. Would it fit? Was it worth it? Yes, it’s still a nice shirt. And soft. And would look good on another girl. On me though?
She unbuttoned it and was about to try it on when her phone buzzed. She put the shirt back in its drawer and went to go join her friend.