got stains on my T-shirt

I hate getting stains on my favorite T-shirts. OK, that slightly did not make sense. I made T-shirt plural, but favorite implies there’s only one I’m talking about. Let’s try this again. I hate getting stains on my T-shirts I really like. Much better. Stains ruin a T-shirt and I feel panicked, like I need to go wash it right away or else it’ll stay on there forever. I care about…no that’s not right…The T-shirts I really like are ones that are hard to come by like ones you get from attending a concert or ones you get from attending a conference that changed your life. I become little red hen protective over them and just want to wear them without messing them up in any way.

But it’s more than that. It’s about your need for your T-shirts to stay new always. If I am able to get the stain out with a little soap and warm water, I do that right away, sometimes even while I’m still wearing the shirt, but if not, I wish I could run the washing machine right away. That’s not always possible. But even if I am able to get the stain out immediately by hand, it feels like the shirt is never going to be the same again and the next time I put the shirt on again, my eyes scan right over to where the stain had been before I took it out and they examine the spot over and over as if daring the stain to show up. This is getting weird now, but I feel like I need to finish the story.

Obviously when it comes to T-shirts I really like, my perfectionism takes over. I feel weird admitting this, but I think I hate getting stains because I don’t like making mistakes and a stain is like an outward reflection of a mistake. It’s ridiculous because no one is perfect so why do I have so much trouble accepting my mistakes? Why am I afraid to show I have flaws on the outside? And maybe that’s one of my biggest flaws of all—I’m afraid to be vulnerable with people, to wear my flaws on the outside where everyone can see them and judge me for them. I think I just learned something about myself. Cool beans.

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