It was only afterwards, though, when Grace noticed that there was something printed on it. She looked in the mirror and read the reflection. It said FUCKIN' HOT BRUTHA.
She stared at it, unimaginably appalled. But mostly appalled that she even had something this decadent in her closet. She was about to take it off, but then she paused. She didn't have anything else that was clean to wear. She really didn't want to wear this disgusting shirt, but she had no other choices. She was just glad that her husband wasn't there to see this. She'd be so embarrassed.
So, reluctantly, Grace kept the shirt on and returned to the living room to continue reading the newspaper, but after a minute or so, she didn't feel like reading anymore. In fact, she didn't feel like staying at home at all. She needed to get out of the house, go out and have some fun, meet some people.
Grace stood up from the recliner, grabbed her purse (which was slowly shrinking), and headed out the door, not even giving her shirt a second thought.
And as she headed towards her car, her pale skin began to darken and her age began to regress, now becoming 52 years old.
