You've entered a world of shirt-eaters, what do you do? Do you go along to get along, or mock them and propose to instruct them on "How Not to Eat Shirts"?
In the weekly paper published by my sister, there the article stood right on the front page. The headline in black felt pen screamed "Our Competition's Editor Eats Shirts!" It was true, to a point. I did eat my shirts, or at least put them in my mouth. But if it was a good enough habit for James Dean, it was good enough for me.
At least I didn't cling to my baby bottle as long as she did (when Mom threw it in the trash, sis went to retrieve it).
How not to eat your shirt, then? Put something else in your mouth, like maybe a big, fat cigar. That or find the meaning of life, but you won't do that as there isn't one.