The Green Shirt

You know the green shirt I wear all the time?

Yeah, that one.

No one asks me about it because they have a premonition the answer will be boring, but if someone did, this is what I would say:

This is an actual shirt I own. It’s a nine-dollar, long-sleeved polo thing. I bought it in college, during a sudden bout of shopping inspired by a wild desire to own shirts that were not free gifts at high school math competitions. This purchase brought my total collection of such shirts up to four, so I pretty much did wear it all the time.

Here is an example:

This picture was taken at a dinner party, about ten minutes before an existential meltdown caused by a malfunctioning waffle maker. I take my evening breakfast foods very seriously.

Luckily, someone was able to turn the failed waffles into very successful pancakes, and the future of humanity was saved.

The next party where I wore the green shirt also featured crushing self doubt. That’s because a friend of mine with dark, shoulder-length hair wore her own long-sleeved, forest green shirt. I kept seeing her through doorways and reflected in appliances.

The trouble was that my brain is defective, and instead of, “Hey, my shirt!” I kept thinking, “Look, I’m over there!”

It was troubling.

So I don’t really wear that item very often any more, in case of further carbohydrate- or doppelganger-related incidents. I do have a green hoodie now, though, so you can picture that if you want.