Why Do I Own So Many Turtlenecks When I Hate Things Touching My Neck?
It's a question that has plagued me for years, one that keeps me up at night and haunts my dreams: Why do I own so many turtlenecks when I absolutely despise the feeling of anything touching my neck? It's a mystery that has baffled even the greatest of philosophers, a conundrum that has left even the most brilliant minds scratching their heads in bewilderment.
As I stand in front of my overflowing closet, staring at the sea of high-collared sweaters that seem to mock my very existence, I can't help but wonder: How did I end up in this predicament? Was it a moment of temporary insanity? A cruel twist of fate? Or perhaps, a deep-seated desire to torture myself on a daily basis?
The Turtleneck Temptation
It all started innocently enough. I remember the day I first laid eyes on that sleek, black turtleneck at Needful Things, the local women's clothing boutique. The way the fabric hugged the model's neck, accentuating her delicate features, was simply mesmerizing. I couldn't resist the allure of such a chic and sophisticated look. "This is it," I thought to myself, "the missing piece in my wardrobe."
Little did I know that this one purchase would snowball into a full-blown turtleneck addiction. Before I knew it, I was scouring the racks, hunting for the perfect turtleneck in every color imaginable. Navy blue, forest green, burgundy red – they all found their way into my closet, each one promising to be the one that would finally make me feel comfortable and confident.
The Neck Conundrum
But alas, the comfort and confidence never came. Instead, I found myself constantly fidgeting, tugging at the collar, and desperately trying to find a way to alleviate the suffocating sensation that enveloped my neck. It was as if the turtlenecks were slowly strangling the life out of me, one high-collared sweater at a time.
I've tried everything – from wearing them with the collar folded down, to layering them under loose-fitting shirts, to even considering the drastic measure of cutting the necks off entirely. But no matter what I do, the feeling of that fabric grazing my skin is enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack.
The Sunk Cost Fallacy
Yet, despite the discomfort and the constant struggle, I find myself unable to part with my turtleneck collection. After all, I've invested so much time, money, and effort into amassing this impressive array of neck-hugging garments. The thought of letting them go, of admitting defeat, is simply too much to bear.
It's the classic sunk cost fallacy – I've already spent so much on these turtlenecks, so I can't possibly give up now. I mean, what if one day I suddenly develop a newfound love for the feeling of a tight collar around my neck? What if I wake up and realize that I've been missing out on the true joy of turtleneck wearing all this time?
The Turtleneck Trap
And so, the vicious cycle continues. I keep buying more turtlenecks, convinced that this time, this one, will be the one that finally makes me feel comfortable and confident. But alas, the discomfort only grows, and the guilt of wasting money on these unwearable garments weighs heavily on my conscience.
It's a trap of my own making, a self-inflicted torture that I can't seem to escape. And yet, I can't help but wonder – is there a way out? Is there a light at the end of this high-collared tunnel, or am I doomed to forever be a turtleneck-wearing pariah, forever cursed to fidget and squirm in the presence of my own wardrobe?
Only time will tell, I suppose. But for now, I'll continue to stare at my closet, wondering how I ended up here, and hoping that one day, the answer will come to me – or at the very least, that I'll finally find the courage to donate those darn turtlenecks and embrace the freedom of a bare neck.
