Boo.
Jim, by saying boo to this snowflake, you have driven it into a deeper depression!
I cried drunken tequila tears all over her at 2 am when everything was finalized and all of our deepest fears were affirmed. Her favorite white T-shirt is still covered in my black makeup. We won’t ever wash it. (My emphasis.)
Poor, poor dear Zara:
I, too, have a favorite T-shirt. It's about 49 years old and has been used repeatedly to clean my guns, causing it to be mellowed with a wonderful mix of gun oil and Hoppe's No. 9 gun cleaner. Suck it up, Buttercup!