Last Christmas, we went to a charity function. When we arrived at our table, we found all manner of crap gifted to us by local businesses. It was crap as if to say:
“Thank you for your charitable donation, here’s all the shit we couldn’t sell this quarter.
All participating local businesses.”

It was like the clearance aisle at Walmart vomited merchandise all over our table. Likely, it had.

Inyhoo, amongst this pile of crap, was a shirt. This shirt is gigantic, ugly, bright purple, and has some wrestler called “Cena” on the front making that wrestler face. It’s a terrible thing, one that I’d certainly never buy from one of my participating local retailers.

I love it, though. It’s one of those really good tee-shirts, you know, the kind that’s thick and soft and won’t have holes in it in a year or so, and if I could wear it out of the house, I totally would.
Since I cannot, it has become my favorite pajama top. Furthermore, as I dislike wearing pajama bottoms in bed (they get all twisted up, it’s uncomfortable.) it has become my favorite pajama(s).

Here is my issue regarding my favorite pajamas:

(Just as an aside, I’m sorry to put this on you, but… sigh…I’m finally ready to talk about it, and they say writing is a good first step towards healing.)

On my arm is a patch that says “hustle, loyalty, and respect.”
Spend a little time with that; I certainly have. In fact, I think “hustle loyalty and respect” has its own wrinkle on my forehead.
This is his motto?
He chose “hustle” to be the first, In fact, The most important characteristic he admires in humanity?
I imagine, as I look at the WWF (or WWE, I don’t really know) insignia on my huge ugly purple shirt, that this Cena person is not alone in the creation of his image.
Was there no one there, no one with a thought to say:
Hey, maybe “hustle” says less “root for me” and more “several types of anabolic steroids and a low-grade beaver tranquilizer?”

The other part of his motto is the ok sign he makes with both hands above his wrestler face. It goes inside the three words. (Which I will not repeat, because they do not bear repeating,)
Is it because we’re all okay? Because he’s okay? Because it’s all okay? Because he’s a lumberjack, and he’s okay?
I’ve spent some time with that as well. In fact, I’ve spent many a sleepless night thinking on that very subject, and as it turns out, I’m not okay with it. Very not okay. And if my ugly purple tee-shirt weren’t so very comfy and snugly, I might be so inclined to write the Cenation (I am still unclear on the appropriate pronunciation of that word) a sternly worded letter.

So there you have it. It’s taken me six months, and one probable wrinkle to make peace with my pajamas, but I think I’ve made real progress here today. I’ve made progress in group. Cena thanks you.