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Polyester Must Die.

And anything else that makes my wife look like Olive Oyl.

Robert Cormack
The Haven

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Courtesy of Pinterest

As a Goodwill employee, I can assure you that none of these trends are really gone. They’re just $2.99 on the back shelf.” FolkloreAndVillians

My wife, Winona, comes out of the change room practically frothing. “It’s polyester,” she cries, yanking the curtain closed before I can comment. Supposedly polyester demeans fashion, cheapening what is otherwise “cute as a button.” For that reason alone, I’m supposed to hate polyester.

Frankly, I don’t even know what “cute as a button” means anymore. What I saw my wife wearing made her look like a muffin. I didn’t say anything, of course, since I’d rather tangle with a rabid animal.

I’m surprised they have the strength to carry anything, and more surprised my wife lets them.

Winona can tear flesh from bone, which wouldn’t take much with these skinny salesgirls. I’m surprised they have the strength to carry anything, and more surprised my wife lets them.

But before Winona dehydrates herself with bundles and bundles of tears, I feel I should say something nice. “It has a certain flare,” I tell her. “Bravo for not being flare-adverse.”

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