Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #81

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:

Yes, that’s me, Sweetpea. I just took that photo this morning. It’s the newest edition to my collection, courtesy as a gift from my lovely mother.

It’s April 1, 2010. Today is a very big day, as you’ll surely discover in the coming years. It’s sort of like opening day of New York Fashion week, only on a smaller scale and no intimidating stares from Anna Wintour. Though I must say, that woman is definitely my hero.

But, as usual, I digress. So what exactly is today? The start of Polo Shirt Season 2010! You’ll learn pretty quickly that I take this very, very seriously. So don’t laugh. And if you must laugh, do so discretely or in your head, please. Some may say I take it to extremes (heck, even you might say that someday…), but as you’ll also learn, I won’t care. At. All.
I’m not even sure when my obsession with polo shirts began. A few years ago, I was shopping at The Salvation Army one day. My eyes fell upon an entire rack filled with every kind of polo shirt you could imagine. I was smitten. Right there. Just like that. A mere 30 minutes later, I stood in the check-out line with a mountain of 12 polo shirts in my wheelchair basket. My little red head barely peeked out over the top. It was, hands-down, one of the happiest days of my life.

I can’t really explain their allure or their tight hold over me. Polos just give me a certain swagger. The colors pop just like my personality, and they make me feel sort of sophisticated.

Imelda Marcos had shoes. I have polo shirts. It just works. I’ve learned not to question it.
My motto: You’re never fully dressed without two things. A sweet glass of soda pop and a brightly colored polo shirt. And, well, let’s just say there is no short supply of those colorful collared shirts in my closet. I’ve got everything from pinks to oranges to yellows to lots and lots and lots of stripes. Because, come on, who doesn’t squeal with glee at the sight of stripes?

Do I still wear them a lot once we’re married? Knowing me, I just might have worn one to our wedding reception…or foregone a wedding dress altogether in favor of a colorful shirt? Come on, you know you probably smiled during our first dance as you looked at me in my polo shirt as we swayed to an ’80’s power ballad. You did, right?
Oh, do you know what would be really awesome? If we got matching polo shirts. I know, it sounds a little strange, but can’t you just picture us wearing our matching shirts and sipping Barq’s root beer on the patio? I can. We’d probably get a few weird glances thrown in our direction, but you know me…I wouldn’t care. Until we meet…

P.S. Oh, and what should happen this morning? In typical awkward-me fashion (oh hey, another fun play on words with the word fashion! Score another Humor Point for me; are you keeping score…?), what did I do? I spilled my glass of orange juice all over my sleeve. And then I heard Bad Moon Rising by CCR on the radion. All I could say was “Oh shoot” and move on…