I found (reread) this piece by yours truly in my old blog. It was written sometime in September last year.
“My white shirt is my real priced posession.
I had one white shirt before. I was inexperienced in buying shirts, and decided to get not-so-expensive shirt. My old shirt serves me well, until one day I washed it together with another not-so-expensive pants, and the blue dye of the pants came off and stained my white shirt.
I was devastated. The white shirt looked horrible. I couldn’t bear to part with it, so I fold it up and put it in my wardrobe. Subsequently I never buy another white shirt for myself. Not that I do not want a new white shirt, but just that I don’t see an immediate need for one.
Sometime after that incidence, I got another white shirt. This time, I did not buy it myself. It was a gift. It was of almost perfect cut and fitting, the material is good, and I love the feel of it on me. I seldom wear it. I only wear it on special occassions. Like my convocation. Or an important client presentation. It feels good to have it and be able to use it, but I feel restrained to wear it too often. I don’t want to spoil it from wear and tear.
Then it happened again.
It is the same not-so-expensive blue pants that I have. Since the last incident, it was hanging on my door, gathering dust. On that faithful (or is it fateful?) day, I decided to clean all my shirts. And also this particular pair of pants that has been gathering dust.
I was again devastated that my white shirt is ‘stained’. But this time round, it does not look that awful, like my first white shirt. The colour was rather faint, and the bluish hues of it make it kind of there, but not really there. Nevertheless, it is never the same again. The white shirt, albeit was beautiful once, is dyed blue. Perhaps I should not call it stain. But the dye will remain forever.
Another important occassion is coming up this weekend, calling on me to wear a white shirt. Should I go and get a new one? My automatic reaction was, nah, don’t have to. I can wear this dye-d one. I just need to ‘hide’ it under some blazer or something.
And that’s it. I am not afraid to wear it again. But never fully, as often as I used to, nor with that kind of pride that I used to have. The white shirt is changed forever with the dye from the not-so-expensive pants.
Why the story of these white shirts and blue pants? ‘Cause the white shirts are like my relationships that I have, the feeling of love that I had. The pants is my past sin, my ignorance of what is right and wrong, and my immaturity in giving into temptations.
Have you washed and ironed your white shirts lately? Be careful. It needs tender, warm, loving care. If not, the dye will come. “
I find that the ending seems corny though. Oh well!
| Musing |