Doing My Little Turn on the Catwalk

There are many reasons to envy me: my debonair good looks, my outrageous amount of success with the ladies, my lengthy undefeated streak in lumberjack competitions. However, one area where Cody Wayne Maxwell Powell seems to be lacking is the wardrobe. At least, that's what I gather, since three people over the last month have told me I dress like a hobo. Well, maybe not a hobo, since my clothes are free of booze stains and poo poo odors. Actually, what they said is that I seem to wear the same things over and over again. Presumably, this means I dress more like an apathetic poor person than a hobo. I don't know if this criticism is valid, since I happen to be an apathetic poor person. If anything, I should be congratulated for not trying to fool anyone.

There are two very valid reasons for my limited wardrobe. The first is that I'm neither a woman, nor a gay man; looking at it that way, it's a minor achievement that I own anything besides sweat pants and Ultimate Warrior t-shirts. The second is that if you had the kind of shirts I had, you'd wear the hell out of them too. Variety could be an asset if you buy all of your crap at Old Navy and Gap Kids, since all of your clothes would then be boring. That's not how I play it, though. My clothes have character, and they should be shown off accordingly. Let's take today for an example. The shirt I'm wearing right now was brought back ESPECIALLY FOR ME FROM A LITTLE PLACE CALLED THAILAND! If the boo birds had their way, this wonderful gesture would remain hidden, only peeking out of my closet once a month. Poppycock, I say, I shall wear it once a week at a minimum! Each shirt in the daily rotation has a similar story. Think of it less like a wardrobe, and more like a scrapbook composed entirely of cotton and polyester.

Even though I'm definitely in the right here, I have begun to buckle under the pressure. Last night, at Target, I bought another shirt. In all fairness, it was $9 and it has Alfred E. Neuman on it, so it may not be the fashion statement people were looking to inspire. Nevertheless, I will wear it tomorrow, and see what happens. If a greater than average amount of women throw themselves at my feet, perhaps I will give more consideration to the subject of "new clothes". If it's a colossal failure like I expect, I will track down the Target employee who stocked the shirt and hunt him for sport. The wardrobe of Cody Powell is not to be trifled with.