Mike's Musings: Might as Well Face it, I’m Addicted to Shirts

“See you later sweetie, good luck”

My wife winked at me encouragingly as she dropped me off in front of the Marriott Hotel. I winked back, told her I loved her, and smiled after her as she drove off to do some shopping.

Good luck. Yeah. I was going to need it.

I walked into the Marriott and got directions to meeting room 105. Outside the room I saw a poster on an easel that said T-Shirt Addicts Anonymous. I walked through the door into the small conference room a few minutes after 6pm and there were already five people in the room, seated in padded folding chairs arranged in a rough circle. I wrote ‘Mike’ on a blank name sticker in black magic marker, and then brought the marker and four blank name stickers with me as I went to sit down next to the only person in the circle not wearing a t-shirt. This would be the facilitator. His name sticker said Stan and was expertly placed on the left side of his bright orange sweater. The color of the sweater, his pressed tan pants, sensible shoes, harmless demeanor, and perfectly slicked and parted hair suggested that his father was Mr. Rogers and his mother collected oranges and traffic cones.

“Welcome,’ he said pleasantly while looking over at me, “we were just getting started. Is this your first meeting?”

“Yes, my name is Mike.”

“Hi Mike!” Five voices enthusiastically greeted me in unison.

Since this was my first time, Stan suggested that introductions were in order and indicated that the woman next to him should start.

“Hello,” she said, “my name is Kathy and I am a t-shirt addict. I have 243 t-shirts and all of them have glitter on them.”

I could not have been less surprised. Kathy was a plump-ish brown-haired woman in her early 40s who looked like she threw herself on a glitter bomb to save a crafting class. She was literally covered in glitter. It was on the fairies on her t-shirt, in her makeup, even in her hair.

“Hello Kathy.”

Next to her, a giant of a man with long hair and a full beard rumbled, “Name’s John, and I am a t-shirt addict.” John was close to 7 feet tall and must have weighed 400 pounds. His tee depicted a ferocious bear, which I thought was very appropriate, but decided not to say anything since it may have been one of his relatives. “I have 322 t-shirts, all with wild animals on them, none with sleeves.”

Duh. His arms were like tree trunks.

“Hello John.”

Next I was introduced to Sue, a young dark-haired woman with 203 t-shirts with oriental-themed cats on them, including the one she was wearing. Bob rounded out our little group. He was maybe early twenties with long blonde hair and was wearing a t-shirt showing a radiant space warrior in flight - he said he had 183 similar shirts.

Stan the Man smiled at me, urging me to say a little bit about myself. Show time. I stood up and started to pace in front of Kathy, John, Sue, and Bob. Stan didn’t like it.

“Uh, as a point of order, we normally sit during these meetings.”

“This is not going to be a normal meeting, Stan. Listen, you’re a nice man, in fact, that is what I’m going to call you - Niceman. Now be still, stay nice, and let me talk.”

“I see all of you looking at my outfit and wondering if I should be here.” I was wearing blue jeans with a leather bomber jacket over a plain white t-shirt. Aviator shades perched atop my short graying hair. “I occasionally dress like Tom Cruise because when I do, my wife treats me accordingly.”

I looked purposefully from Kathy to Sue and said, with added emphasis, “Accordingly.”

“I actually have 53 white t-shirts.” I now looked at each of them in turn. “I also have 286 different solid-colored tees. I have 23 tees with glitter, 46 that are bedazzled and 19 with fairies on them. I have 250 tees with animals on them, including 118 with cats and 201 with an oriental motif. I have 2,306 tees with heroes and superheroes on them. I have used online sites to make over 500 custom tees. Over the last almost 40 years I have bought over 10,000 t-shirts. I  have a bedroom filled with dressers just for them. My son made an app for me to keep track of them and to help create outfits. Am I an addict?”

Stan started to speak, “Well, definitely…”

“No!” I said forcefully, “and neither are any of you.”

“Uh, this is getting out of hand, maybe even a little dangerous…”

Time for my best Maverick impression - I grabbed him with both hands by the front of his glow-in-the-dark sweater. “That’s right Nice…man, I am dangerous. I think you should leave.” I looked at the rest of the group for approval.

“Bye Niceman,” they all said, smiling, in unison.

“Now team, because we are going to be a team, t-shirts are good, but they should enrich your life, not define it. In the coming weeks we are going to talk about budgets, boundaries, and circumstances. T-shirts will be awesome and so will we. As team members I will be giving you each call signs; I started writing on the blank name stickers and handing them to the group: you are Pixie Queen, you are Wild Man, you are Ninja Kitty, and you are Star Knight. You may call me Dragon. We are the TLA, T-shirt Lovers of America - dismissed until next week.”

My four new team members left as excited as if it were the night before Christmas. When I caught up with my wife at the mall, she looked at me questioningly, to which I replied, “Mission accomplished.”

“I had a feeling,” she said smirking, “this is for you.”

“A new t-shirt! 

Now my victory was complete.