I walked into Braums Ice Cream store this evening to buy a gallon of ice cream for the holidays and to pick up a sundae for my wife. Nothing usual in this except that I was wearing a bright pink t-shirt. Like any normal, red-blooded American male, I do not usually wear pink. I was wearing the pink shirt because I was the co-director for a girls’ retreat this past weekend (more to follow on the retreat), and the team decided on pink for the color of their shirts. To be honest, I had no problem wearing the shirt at the retreat.
Of course, as my luck would have it, one of the retreatants who happened to be one of my students dared me to wear the pink shirt at school. I said, “Sure, next jeans day. I’m secure in my masculinity.” Well, today was the first jeans day. Not only did I not want to back down from a little dare, but I also wanted to wear the pink shirt to show support for all of those girls that went on the retreat.
So here I am in this store. I walk in and this guy with his family gives me the look over. I could see the gears in his heads wondering why I guy like me might be wearing bright pink. I caught myself over-compensating by specifically ordering the sundae for my wife.
As I stuffed the change back into my pocket, the male cashier asked, “What color are your eyes?”
My first response was to say hazel. He leaned a little over the counter and replied, “They look more green than hazel.”
All I could do was smile as I got back in my pickup truck. After all, my forest green jacket complimented the pink shirt perfectly.