Dress To...Meh, Screw This.

Yeah.  I got swagger.

A moment occurs in life when you just sort of "wake up," and feel like the world is suddenly watching you.  This can be earlier for select individuals, and sometimes much later for those who just don't get it--blissfully ignorant.



But anyways, my time of awakening was right about 7th grade.  Before then, I didn't care much.  How I looked to everyone else was annoying to think about.

Before my awakening I was the kid who wore the same big red sweatshirt every day because of comfort--not fashion.  I was, in short, a dork, and still am.

I wear sweatshirts nearly every day because I don't care.  They're comfortable and warm and cozy and cuddly and don't constrict movement.  Sure, I like to look nice at times, but my efforts are at most minimal.

Sorry.  That was a bit of a side note.

My consciousness awakened over the course of two events.  The first was when a childhood former "boy"friend tried to fist pound me.

Needless to say it was an epic fail on my part.  I was a little slow that day.

dork.

He straight up called me a dork.

The second event of awakening occurred when I was at Sacs with my mother.

I'm relatively short which has always made it difficult to find pants of the proper length.  So my mother hemmed them.  At times successfully, other times not.

Before the awakening I didn't care.  Who cares if there is a really obvious black stitched line right around my calf where the jeans have been folded under?

Well, at Sacs I became aware.

Too aware.

It was bad.

Really really bad.

Completely and utterly bad.

Devastatingly bad.

I wanted to cry.  Maybe.

This is probably how I looked, but not:

Bits of black string were scattered around the floor as I ripped the hem right out of my jeans.

I couldn't stop.  It was a fury that only comes every so often and it had hit me right then.  I was not the same.

So now my poor dressing habits are more or less conscious.  I still wear sweatshirts, but for all heaven's sake I do not wear awfully hemmed pants.  That is a number one no-no on my list of bad dress.

And now I can properly fist pump and do so whenever prompted with great skill.  Sometimes I even add an "explosion" at the end.

-K


(And now, she's had to buy business casual wear for her snazzy world-saving internship. My little Katlyn's all grown up...I could cry...

D

)

COMING SOON: (Not soon like 6 months from now either!)

-Why we suck at managing our blog
-The long-awaited, gripping conclusion to "Fish Sympathy"
-Why 3,000+ years of civilization don't count anymore, now that Osama's been killed
-A nonspecific, identity-protecting account of a crazy trip to Maine
-A series of "How To" posts of assorted comedic value