The ghosts of t-shirts past

I have a hard time giving things away. By things, I mostly mean clothes. I have dozens of shirts that I've had since high school (and a few that I've had since junior high). My apartment is overrun with boxes (this, after I've already filled four closets) with clothes that I've always been sure I might wear again some day.

But nature has dealt me a curveball I wasn't expecting. On the cusp of 27, my metabolism has, finally, slowed down. I eat the same as I used to. I even exercise now (something I never did in my teens or early 20s). But my hips continue to grow, despite all my efforts to stop it (thanks, mom! I got your genes). That said, all my favored ironic t-shirts from college hug too closely now. Even knowing this, I've kept them around for an extra few months, as mementos of sorts. Of course I'll want to show someone this Friendster t-shirt again, I thought.

Today, though, I finally handed a few of them over. But because I remain a nostalgia pack rat, I couldn't give them away without documenting them somehow. Thus, I give you the departed, hips cropped out on purpose: