I was looking through my closet the other day and found a yellow “No Lights in Wrigley Field” T-shirt I bought at a Chicago Cubs game when I was in college.

I picked up the threadbare shirt – the same one Rob Lowe wears in the movie “About Last Night” – and I glanced at the size: XL.

“Hmmm,” I thought. I then held it up to my chest and glanced in the mirror.

It looked like I was holding up a piece of doll’s clothing. On either side of the T-shirt I could see ample bulges of the post-40 me.

I looked again at the tag: “100% cotton.”

“It must have shrunk,” I reasoned.

All right, I’ve gotten bigger over the years.

But I can still rationalize that yesterday’s XL is today’s M.

My son, Eric, is 13 and wears a size large shirt; at least it’s a large as deemed by American Eagle Outfitters. When I hold up Eric’s T-shirts, they look no bigger than a wet car chamois.

Clothes sizes just don’t correlate to reality these days.

In the ’90s, baggy was in. Then, an XL really was an XL, and XXL meant, “Ahhh:.” Get outside of Target’s men’s department today and XL means “Ouch : rip : tear.”

After getting comfortable in baggy clothing, which on my body looks normal, the gods of fashion have returned to the “fitted look.”

“Fitted” means “no big guys allowed.”

Young men wear their clothes tight, and they can afford to. They still have biceps and pecs to flex and show off. Most men my age need a little room in their clothing to hide what’s since gone south.

I also like to tuck my T-shirts and polos, which is a big no-no today. Tucking is a clear way to tell a man’s age.

Untucked = “Dukes of Hazzard” crowd, the Jessica Simpson years.

Tucked = They saw first runs of the original TV series.

Well, Wrigley Field has now had lights for 17 years. Maybe it’s time for me to keep my memories tucked away, too.