St. Patrick's Day

I have a very Irish sounding name.  It couldn't sound more Irish if my parents had gone with their original plan and named me Jennifer.  Then everybody would call me Jennie.  That's right, Jennie... with and "ie".  Combined with my nearly translucently-white skin, blue eyes and freckles, I have a look that matches my husband's last name.  So, with the Irish look and the Irish name I get a lot of questions on St. Patrick's Day like, "Where's your green?" and "Aren't you Irish?"  This was never an issue before I got married and still had my very Italian last name.

Here's the thing.  I look terrible in green.  Really terrible.  I used to have a green shirt that I would wear to work on days that I really didn't want to stay at work.  Within an hour, someone would look at me and say, "Oh, Kim, you look terrible! You should go home!  Honestly, go home before you spread your germs around the office!"  Since they insisted, I would go home.  Six years in that office and nobody ever caught on that I was "sick" every time I wore that green shirt. 

But that's how bad I look in green.  It reflects off of my terribly fair skin in a way that makes people keep their distance because it looks like I'm going to ralph all over them.  And nobody wants to hang around for that.

So technically, yes, I am just shy of half Irish.  I eat corned beef, potatoes and cabbage every March 17th.  I wear the little shamrock pin that I made with my mother when I was a little girl.  I dress my kids in green clothes and put their hair in green ribbons and bows.  They look like little leprechans.  They're adorable and look cute in every color.  But for me, I wear black and grey, with just a tiny bit of my one and only green shirt, a tank top, peeping out from under my black t-shirt.