The gray Tee-shirt fabric slipped over my head and started complaining as it met my breasts. Undeterred, I continued pulling the shirt downwards until I wiggled completely in. Looking in the mirror I decided my new “Minnesota Gopher” shirt would do for the basketball game we were about to see. Nonetheless, I was frustrated that the shirt’s tag, in what I assume was a 24-point font, read size “L.” Geez, it was rather form-fitting to say the least. Since when did “L’s” start looking like “M’s?” I did a side view. Hmmm. What if I took a real breath instead of the little whiffy ones I was doing as I gazed in the mirror? Would my breasts burst through the seams like people through the door at a Black Friday sale? I turned and tried looking at my other side, which didn’t help. Did the short sleeves puff up my upper arm flesh? I wasn’t going for the Popeye look on this day. No way was I going to do the back view. Just as I was thinking I should change my shirt for one that was more stretchy, my husband wandered in the room. “Wow. You look great in that shirt. Is it new? Will you be my date for the game?” I decided breathing was overrated and kept my shirt on, so to speak. At least until after the game. It was the best part of my day.