This is a shirt my first husband got second hand and I could tell why. As soon as he put that shirt on, it looked so bad that I was forced to shut my eyes because it was emotionally traumatizing to look at it. The combination of print, pattern and color produced such a cataclysm of visual assault that I needed six months of therapy to deal with it. It is the equivalent of seeing your loved one wearing a Jason from Halloween mask, which is almost as scary.
When my husband wore the birth control shirt, I knew that there would be no chance of him cheating on me. I was surprised it didn't render him sterile. It was one ugly-ass unflattering shirt. I threw it away and he divorced me anyway.