When I go for a jog, I wouldn't describe myself as someone who would stand out. I don't run in a sports bra, I don't have on spandex of any kind, I don't wear shoes that are neon orange...and yet, today, I had the distinct feeling that everyone was looking at me. Did I have something on my face? Had all the gnats I had run through stuck to my sweaty face? Then I remembered the t-shirt I was wearing.
It wasn't just any t-shirt; It was my favorite t-shirt of all time. My brother, Ben, bought it at a thrift store years ago and, realizing that his 6'2'' body really couldn't fit into an adult small t-shirt, he gave it to me. It has that soft, thin, you-hardly-know-it's-there feeling. What's so unusual about this shirt, however, isn't where it came from or the fact that it's lemon yellow; it's what it says on the front in big letters: REAL MEN DRIVE MOPARS.
Forced to learn what a mopar was after being asked every time I wore the shirt, I am proud to share that the word "mopar" actually stands for Motor Parts and is associated with Chrysler cars. I'm not sure how I lived most of my life with that word outside of my vocabulary. While I have no interest in either Chrysler or motor parts or men who drive them, the phrase is entirely unique, which is part of why I love the shirt so much. Not only am I not a man; I'm not a "real man"--a phrase that seemed to baffle Birmingham runners today.
1 comment:
Hey Cara,
Sadly this is the first time I've ventured to your blog since you sent the blog address in your 2007 Christmas card. I have enjoyed navigating through past entries. I especially enjoyed the entry about Christian fiction. I am kind of a book snob too, except that I actually read Christian fiction like I would eat donuts - I still do it secretly but I usually wouldn't admit it. Hope you're doing well!
Jess
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