I am colorblind. Most of the time, my colorblindness is quite innocuous, but every now and then, it takes center stage.
Last October, Courtney bought me two new suits. I haven’t had a suit that fit me since 2003, so it was time. One suit is a solid black and is cut like a tuxedo but without the felt lining on the collar. The other… well, the other one I’m not sure.
When we bought it, the salesman told me it was brown. Between then and now, I forgot that, so while we were at church on Sunday, I leaned over to Courtney and whispered, “What color is my suit?” She looked at me like I was insane, and thinking back on it, I can’t say I blame her. I mean, how many times in your life will someone lean over and ask the color of their clothing, especially an article of clothing that is worn pretty much on a weekly basis?
“Brown,” she replied as she slowly inched towards the door.
And here I thought it was green.
And it begs the question: What color are the clothes I’m wearing now? “I” think I have on blue pants and a green shirt, but looking at the shirt closely, I really don’t know.
As long as it isn’t pink.
