This is goodbye: A eulogy for my black and white striped shirt

My wardrobe has a high turnover rate. I buy new things cheaply, keep them around for a year or two, get bored with them, and sell them.

With the exception of purely practical staples, like the black pants I've had since I worked at Bob Evans, and an ever-expanding but never-shrinking collection of layering tanks, nothing sticks around too long. Mainly because I have hardly anything in my closet that I'm truly in love with .

OK, I do admit I am sentimentally attached to a few gifted items that I won't give up even when they don't quite fit and I can't ever find anything to match them. And I'm keeping my high school senior T-shirt and the orange top I got in 8th grade until they fall to pieces, simply because they've lasted this long and it would be a shame to give up on them now. But for the most part, I don't have any compunctions about saying goodbye to clothes that are past their prime.

Yet yesterday was a sad day, when I was forced to do just that, to a shirt that I might even go so far as to call my favorite. The first time I wore it (not even two years ago!), I claimed I would "looooooooove" it "until the day it finally bites the dust." That day came too soon.

After I pulled it out of the dryer yesterday, I had to admit to myself that the holes were no longer "small enough to ignore." The neckline was coming apart from the body of the shirt in spots, and the waistband was doing the same. I could probably sew up some of it and get a few more wears out of it, but it would never look good, and it would just postpone the inevitable.

So I steeled myself and relegated my beloved shirt to the pajama drawer.

"What?" you're probably saying. "The pajama drawer? You'll still see it every day! That's not saying goodbye! That is not worthy of a eulogy!"

And, well, maybe you're right. It's more like a breakup. Where me and my ex (ex shirt) are still "just friends." Sure, we see each other, and we get along, but we can't go out together any more. When we do see each other, we're both (OK, let's be honest, it's just me) painfully reminded of a time when our relationship meant more. When we didn't have to hide it. When we could, oh, proudly flaunt our couple-selfies all over the Internet.

Pictures of some of our happier times together

Gosh, it's only been a day, and I miss my Black-and-White-Striped-Shirt already. I wonder if it's thinking of me...