SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD becomes unapologetic muscle shirt wearer

my favorite article of clothing is a muscle shirt my dad bought in the 70s. it’s got the sleeves cut off and a hole on the bottom right side. the washed out navy tinge and torn up surfboard give testament to its years on a cross country van ride with my dad. it’s seen mid war protests and nights camping by beachside, never expecting to find itself in a seventeen year old’s closet. I am an imposter when i wear it, discarding the fitted t-shirts and lace tops. not hidden under sweatshirts and loose graphic tees. if this shirt were a religion it would not be christianity, but I like the way it folds into my ripped black jeans. the only person this outfit owes an apology to is the fabric itself: dear muscle shirt from the 70s, i am sorry i am not as cool as my dad. i am sorry if you feel dysphoric when i wear you.