I Wore the Same Outfit to My Monday and Tuesday Classes. This Is My Story.
Every now and then, I think about my life, why I do the things that I do and also the color cerulean. I think about cerulean a lot because of Meryl Streep’s monologue in “The Devil Wears Prada.” That was the first time I felt sexually attracted to a belt. Anyways, I’m getting off topic. I’m writing this today to tell you how I became both brave enough and humble enough to wear the exact same outfit to my Monday and Tuesday classes.
Where to begin? I suppose I’ll begin at the beginning. You see, I have this pair of leggings that I wear whenever I’m feeling sad. When the Lucky Goat barista forgot to put caramel in my latte? I wore the leggings. When my best friend posted a picture where my nose looked kind of weird? I wore the leggings. When my family had to downsize from a 3 story Monterey Colonial to a walk-up Victorian? I wore the leggings. They’re like individual leg hugs.
Anyways, I was pretty sad Monday morning because I was thinking a lot about my Aunt Babbie. What if she just died, you know? So, I did it. I wore the leggings to class and a Heineken t-shirt that I found at Goodwill and cut into a crop top. Then, after class I went to my best friend Jada’s house, got so high that I was afraid to go outside and had to sleep over. When I woke up the next morning, I only had 23 minutes to get to class. So, I did it again. I wore the exact same sad-baby leggings and Heineken crop top to my Tuesday lecture. Was I afraid that there was one person in my Tuesday gen psych lecture that was also in my Monday speech lab? Of course. But did I have any choice? No, because I had already used all of my absences for the semester.
It turns out that there was one person who was in both of my classes: me. I learned a lot about myself that day. I learned that my shirt really starts to smell weird after hour 32 of being worn. I learned that there was a discussion board due in my Tuesday sociology lecture, which I didn’t do and now I’m failing. But most importantly, I learned that we are not defined by how many variations of athleisure we wear in one week. And that’s what really counts.