Wristband Guy

I recently decided that I will start wearing a wristband. There is no timeframe as of yet, but the decision to move forward with this plan is a definite “lock”.

Why a wristband? I saw a thumbnail of one (on a wrist) while doing a Google image search. The search was not specifically for a wristband – that was just a case of blind luck. Once I saw that wristband, a thought impregnated my brain matter: “Why do I not have on of those wrapped around my wrist?”

And that is all it took. Now my heart and mind are set upon this new course. I wore wristbands in my youth, but they were made of mere terrycloth. I am considering going with canvas this time around; if not then, then definitely pleather.

My band-clad wrist will become my signature look in short order. My arm will swing into a room full of people and there will be a good second or two when they will be aware that I am approaching before my body fully enters. "Here comes Wristband Guy!" they will cry with a mixture of awe and delight. The anticipation will be sublime.

Will my other clothes require changes in order to make them compatible with the wrist band? Yer darn tootin’. I can see myself going with short sleeves next winter - three-quarter sleeves at the very most. And sleeveless tops are not out of the question – not at all. Even a vest-only look remains in the realm of possibility – so long as it does not draw attention to my deltoids in lieu of my newfound wrist garb.

Of course, I will need to update my friends as I update my wardrobe. The current lineup just will not do – Wristband Guy cannot be seen with a seemingly random collection of the bourgeois suburbanites and itinerant pipe workers. No ma’am. I will cull a newly updated coterie as a fine sculptor selects his clay. Tapered sideburns will be popular amongst them, I can tell you. Nasal piercings as well.

What new privileges will my wristband afford me? A plethora is the only way I can describe it to you, assuming the likes of you are even able to understand that. Actually, hold out your wrist for me. Let me… mmm hmm. This conversation has been terminated. See me again once you’ve taken care of that unsightly bare wrist of yours. It is uncouth.

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