My mother-in-law gave one of my children a pink shirt as part of his Easter church outfit:
You and I both know that every time I take that out of the washing machine, I’m going to think, Oh, no! I’ve ruined a white shirt!
Pink has never been my color. When I was a sophomore in college, my grandmother remarried, and she invited me to be an usher. The wedding party was to wear pink shirts, though, and I didn’t own any and didn’t want to wear pink.
Real men aren’t afraid to wear pink. my stepmother chided me.
Real men wear what they want. I said. And I wore a white shirt. With a thin knit tie, because my sophomore year in college was a long time ago, when that was considered fashionable. Come to think of it, it’s been a year or so since I’ve worn that tie. Because I still have it, of course.