I hate garment tags. Specifically the tags sewn into the neckline of shirts. My wife chides me about this. She hands me the scissors when I unpackage a shirt knowing me all to well.

I have no use for them:

* I know what size I wear.
* I don’t care who the manufacturer is.
* I don’t need to know how to wash or dry it.
* I could give a flip if it was made in India, Indonesia, or Indiana.
* Tags are usually sewn into the fabric all willy-nilly and made of scrap pieces of emery cloth causing a nagging, itchy-skritchy feeling every time you turn your head.
* I feel good eliminating shirt tags, much like I do muting commercials and idiotic spokes-people on T.V. (or radio).

Baby clothing takes the cake. Sometimes three tags deep, these itsy-bitsy sleepers, rompers, shirts, body-suits, WHATEVER, have the largest tags in relation to the garment size. EVER.

I once went through Mighty Mo’s clothes wielding a pair of Singer scissors (only the best, mind you) and came away with a large handful of manufacturer propaganda! I can’t keep up as his wardrobe changes, as each bite of Gerber ‘Beef and Gravy’ moves him to a new size.

I hope to someday teach my son that he too can wield the mighty power of the scissors. This will ensuring future generations live tag free and enjoy the peace of mind that comes with a ‘no-nag-neck’ shirt.

Until then, he is immersed in the labels that hang from the side of his activity mat. No other toy will do. I have my work cut out for me.