because- even if you are merely making a mad dash to the marché to staunch a diet coke craving- you will inevitably run into a long lost acquaintance, who will then assume that the 4H shirt is not an anamoly but a way of life. because the wearing of the 4H shirt in public is the fashion equivalent of driving down the interstate on a plow.
and we're talking the real deal here, folks. those unmistakable 4 clover leaves accompanied by those damning 4 Hs. admittedly, this is a cleverly fitted 4H shirt that is borderline sexy. or at the very least, as close to sexy as a white t-shirt emblazoned with a logo beloved by farmers the world over can be.
the 4H shirt has gone places. but most often it has gone under other, cuter things. on this particular day the wearing of the 4H shirt outside the house was rendered even less style savy by the rain, an ill-advised decision to wear glasses, and the rocking of a side ponytail a la andrea zuckerman (who, let's face it, was the 90210er none of us wanted to be but who we all rightly feared we probably were).
i didn't know that anyone i knew had the time to go to the marché at 11.20 a.m. on a tuesday morning. but then i also didn't know that anyone i knew actually pondered apples, weighing one in an outstretched palm as if it were a magic 8 ball and empires were at stake. now i know that i do know people who do that.
this person i know who i now know does that- a long-lost mapher who only shows up on my side of town on days of exceptionally, out-of-the-norm bad hair- deftly took in the 4H shirt. it was partially concealed by a totally fabulous, non-farmer-approved plum jacket. but really, there's no hiding those Hs. the look on her face was strangely akin to the horror on my mum's when, prepping to leave for my great-grandmother's funeral, i strode into her room looking for a pair of stockings and wearing a leopard-print coat. needless to say, the person pondered her apples quite quickly and bid me adieu.
but- despite her absence- that incredible, indomitable mississippi pride compelled me to unbutton the plum jacket and jaunt about the marché baring my 4Hs without a hint of shame. it was a show of affection apparently too great for the 4H shirt, which not ten minutes later was gashed to death by a cabinet corner as i put my unpondered apples away.