Matthew Weaver in His Natural Habitat

Yellow shirt a missed opportunity

The person I was interviewing wore a yellow shirt, and it was all I could do not to out and out say, "Give me your shirt."

I've long been a proponent of bright yellow clothing, trying to make it the next big thing in fashion.

I've donned the shirts, the shoes and the stocking cap made by Mom, and still the offerings available are few and far between. They're not impossible to find, but they are rare enough to be precious gems, if precious gems ever came in an obnoxiously bright shade of yellow.

Upon seeing this gentleman's shirt, of the Wrangler Riata persuasion, my imagination soared with possibilities - the compliments on my fashion sense, the comparisons to lemon pudding, the envious looks from the men and the intrigued looks of my target audience, the ladies.

"You know you're going to meet your future wife wearing that," a co-worker suggested upon seeing the pictures, and agreeing it was a must-add to my wardrobe.

My mind boggled. I had not even considered this possibility! The stakes were suddenly even higher. I had to have one!

So I raced to the location where my interview subject told me he had made his purchase, and wandered the aisles, a trembling mess of nerves and hope.

Sure enough, there were several hanging up.

It was all I could do not to weep as I asked for the key to the dressing room. Truly, this would be a monumental occasion in my life, a moment where I could, in the future down the line, point out to my friends, family and generations of adoring fans and say, "That's when everything shifted, and my life truly began."

For a monumental occasion, this one felt a little snug. I hopped around a little, in effort to let the fabric find its comfort zone upon my body and ease the tension in its threads. After a few moments of self-delusion, I finally convinced myself I needed to go up another size.

I have been to the table a few times. I own it and acknowledge it, as well as my descent from a lineage of giants.

But when I inquired as to the possibility of ordering a larger size, I was informed the shirt in question was a seasonal offering, and not subject to order placing. Whatever the store receives is what the store has.

The employees helpfully suggested I check the Wrangler Web site, which netted similar results.

Funnily enough, the sound of a heart breaking is eerily similar to the sound of returning an obnoxious yellow shirt back to its place on the rack.

Goodbye, reputation as a fashion guru. Farewell, envious looks. Sniff … until we meet again, lemon pudding!

My future wife, of course, must also wait until I can find some other form of clothing with which to adequately dress myself so she makes her presence known.

I'm disappointed, especially for the lost opportunity to spend my money locally, but I figure this way, it's just more money to save toward my bright, neon yellow wedding tuxedo.