Judging the Judge Shirt

Nick D brought me the new judge shirt back from PT: San Diego and I was excited to try it on.  The previous judge shirt was creatively termed “the zebra stripes” and had the dubious distinction of turning into a midriff-bearing shirt if the wearer was over 6’1″ or had a dunlopus majoris protruding more than three inches.  I was going to start the next paragraph with the phrase “I put on the new shirt” but putting on implies several things such as the gowning process being free of grunts, cries and panhoots and of being easily reversible.  I more accurately applied the new judge shirt and later peeled it off.   The arms were splendidly sized but my first attempt to pick up garbage would have turned the button line into a sartorial fragmentation grenade (Magic players: I was tempted to make  a Triskelion joke).   I nearly lost my shirt when another player said “Bruce Banner, I just hit your car.”  This was the largest shirt available.

My mass is exceptional and I fully recognize that I should incur extra cost due to it .  I pay more for food, clothing, transportation, health insurance, and the niceties that streamline corpulent living but among all possible communities that would require clothing of exceptional size the Venn Diagram of sedentary, pedantic, and gourmand  which coalesces with “WoTC judge” should be the acme of need.  I’ve heard a large judge took to his shirt with scissors and made patches of the embroidery to put on a larger shirt (which mentally led me to another card allusion).  I enjoy judging and don’t wish to abandon it, but should it become necessary I may need to start scouring for an embroiderer, shirt laster, or personal training.  God forbid the latter.