I was doing laundry today and decided to share a picture with you. You see, I have this ratty old shirt and equally ratty pair of sweat pants that I have worn EVERY SINGLE TIME I have painted since I got married. This shirt is butt-ugly even without the paint. My MIL gave it to me, I think just to see if I would actually wear it because mustard is the one color I just cannot wear – and she knows it! It makes me look like pea-soup barf. So what better use for it than to paint in!
I love painting and decorating* the house. Alot. I’m not a messy painter, but somehow I always get some of the color on my clothes. It’s just the way I am. And when I am decorating or staging a room, the paint usually comes out (although I do use my trusty Krylon spray paint on the small stuff). So there’s lots of paint on this poor shirt.
I keep wearing the shirt now, even though its become threadbare and holey in places, because I love putting it on and seeing the memories. The midnight blue I illegally painted in our first apartment. The yellow/blues I painted to cover the McDonald’s Red/Yellow combo in the kitchen of our first home. The smiley face we painted on my big baby bump #1. The black we painted the walls in our theater room in Iowa. Some of those painted memories make me misty eyed – mainly the apartment (while I hated it, it was in the best place to live) and the colors we painted the Chaos Twin’s rooms before they were born.
Here’s an annotated version with a few of the most visible memories:
Pretty crazy, right? who keeps a shirt this long just to paint in!?