I never thought t-shirts tucked in vs. tucked out was ever that big o' deal. Who cares, really?
That's because I hail from a land of Catholic schools where administrators removed a student's right to chose what clothing to wear and how to wear it, all in the name of Jesus loves you, but not if your skirt is too short.
Teachers used to give students demerits for unruly acts like untucked attire. The schools enforced it, but many a student with 10 t-shirt violations sat in Saturday school, awaiting the bell wringeth. That's how much they protested the shirt-in rules. Maybe that's why city people refuse, the untucked tails are our everlasting rebellion.
Of all the choices I get to make, though, skim milk or 2%? Black eyeliner or brown? whiskey or beer? ... whether to tuck my shirt in seemed pretty insignificant.
That was, until I moved north.
Here, tucked-in tops are so popular, some stuff sweatshirts into their shorts.
For Cowboy and I, this is a battle we've had before.
I, still of city mind, try to encourage variety. Untucked can be flattering, I try to persuade.
To him, untucked is too frat boy.
To which I say, that isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Apparently, some wars never end. See part I here.
Me: See, look at me. My shirt isn't untucked. It isn't the end of the world.
Cowboy: City people never tuck in their shirt. They never do, I don't know why.
Me: Well, cuz we're cooler than you. That's why.
CB: Not really. If I didn't tuck in my shirt, the girls wouldn't be able to check out my butt.
Me: Which girls are checking out your butt?
CB: All of them.
Me: All of them who?
CB: (pause) The jealous ones.