The day I graduated high school, I flung that cap high in the air and never looked back. Don’t get me wrong: I wasn’t one of those awkward social pariahs that ate lunch in the bathroom, but at the same time, going to class for six hours straight and having to ask my parents for permission each time I needed to take the car out wasn’t exactly my (or anyone’s) cup of tea.
Despite doing twice as much as I do now, I still managed to wake up at 6 a.m., pick out my outfit, change my mind, pick something else out and then spend half an hour straightening my hair and doing my makeup.
Two years later, I’m lucky if the clothes I’m wearing off the floor don’t smell like bird feed.
You’d think that I would have more than enough time to keep up my appearance. But you’d be wrong. Somehow, despite the fact that I’m doing less and sleeping more, I still can’t manage to dress myself in a way that would have been even remotely acceptable to the high-school me.
With midterms and papers nearly every week, I feel completely justified wearing sweats — or, on classier days, yoga pants — to school.
My appearance hit an all-time low when I was leaving Ralph’s with a shopping cart and the security guard stopped me.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but you can’t leave the store with that cart.”
“Why not?”
“It’s for in-store use only — not personal use.”
“Personal use? I’m just taking it to my car.”
“We’ve had an increase of your kind using these carts to store their personal belongings. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave with it.”
I knew that I wasn’t dressed to the nines or anything, but I didn’t think I looked homeless. Apparently, I was wrong.
That was a wake-up call. It, in combination with my friend stepping on my glasses, made for the perfect opportunity to get my shit together.
It was like a scene out of the “Princess Diaries.” I shoved my collection of Marshall College T-shirts and UCSD sweatpants to the back of the closet and started picking through hundreds of dollars worth of the Forever 21 clothes I accumulated during my brief stint there over the summer.
After doing a once-over of my wardrobe, I decided to lay some very simple ground rules for myself:
1. Sweats and yoga pants are for working out, not for being seen in public.
2. Make-up is your friend.
3. Hair should never resemble Courtney Love’s.
The first few days were a success. Spending an extra 20 minutes on my appearance resulted in waves of compliments from my friends and coworkers. Maybe it’s sad that I was being praised for looking “normal” — something that never would have happened in high school, with all my outfits that were finished off with matching metals and perfectly coiffed hair, but for now, I’ll take what I can get.
