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Tuesday, April 16, 2013

DTG Made Me a Man

Some people think that it doesn't matter what you put on your t-shirt, until you hear about a story like this. It comes to us from a "DTG Awareness" reader in Fort Worth, Texas.

"DTG Made Me a Man"

Dear DTG Awareness,
I am sure you hear stories like this all of the time, but after reading your first post, I felt compelled to share my story about my experience with undecorated apparel. It was July 4th, of 2011 and my entire family was at my brother-in-laws house for a barbeque. I had worn a plain white t-shirt that day, as I did every day, because up until that point, I saw no advantage to wearing any particular saying or picture on my chest. Soon after we arrived at the party, the food was served and I began sinking my teeth into the delicious barbeque ribs my brother-law-had prepared. Suddenly, a flying object struck me in the back of the head! "What the bottle rocket?" I queried. It turns out, it was a bottle rocket. One of the neighbors had been launching fireworks, but had apparently failed to properly set the correct coordinates for the exploding craft, which caused it to blast my cabe├ža, instead of innocently exploding in midair. I turned and ran toward the neighbor's house to warn them not to set off another, for fear they may strike a less resilient person than I. As I closed in on my unwitting assailants, I could not help but notice the lack of fluidity with which my body moved. It was at this moment that it dawned in my imagination that if I had a t-shirt with a muscular chest printed on it, I could appear much more intimidating, as, from a certain distance, one could perhaps mistake the printed muscles for my real muscles, which, in these sort of situations carries a certain gravitas.
Minus the printed muscular shirt, I was left to acknowledge that my muscles, though impressive in their power to move heavy objects, do not hold their shape in a way that relates the type of strength they contain. So, while inside I felt like I should boldly demand that the neighbors continue their 4th of July celebration in another location far from our cook-out, I was instead forced to resort to the same tactic I had used so many other times in my life, which it turns out, is not quite as manly as I had imagined I would be in my muscle shirt. When I neared the neighbors', half smiling, I sheepishly stated, "you guys hit me in the head. Huh, huh!" The guys looked at each other, laughed, said "sorry man", and set off another bottle rocket, which whizzed past my face. 
I determined that if I could ever find a way to make my own shirts, I would have one made with muscles. Not only that, but I would also have ones made with cool and tough sayings. Sayings, that I have had in my head, that I know would be awesome and intimidating. DTG awareness has come to my life, and now I walk around with confidence. My wife loves me more, my kids respect me, and those neighbors... well let's just say there will be no bottle rockets hitting anybody in the head on that block for a long, long time.

-Phil S. 
 Fort Worth, TX

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