I'm one of those people who wears things until they're pretty much falling apart. On several occasions, my mom has stealthily snuck into my belongings and thrown the ratty-tats away. Former victims include: my favorite pair of brown leather sandals ever, a black cardigan that was admittedly more gray from fading than black (and slightly holey), a United Spirit Association hoodie that was all balled up and rough inside, countless pairs of worn-in running shoes, T-shirts galore (nobody can actually see the pit stains, right? And they're so comfy when they're tissue-thin). My mom and sister lecture me regularly about the importance of continually replenishing a wardrobe so that I don't wake up one day and realize that everything I own is either unacceptably worn down or out of style.
Of course, I never listen.
When I was in high school, I wore a cheerleading uniform or outfit almost 90% of the time; I had to dress in some kind of spirit uniform on every day that a sport team had a game/match/event (you can imagine how sick I am of purple & gold). So I never actually had to buy clothes. On "free-dress" days, I would pretty much wear my sister's old stuff, and on the rare occasion, I would buy something new--a skirt, a pair of jeans, a sweater--but it was inevitably either extremely casual/loungewear-y or pretty fancy.
During the summer before college, I realized I was in deep shit. I had no clothes, no real sense of style. So over the last five years I've spent a good deal of money attempting to amass a wardrobe worthy of my mother's & sister's praise. For the most part, I've succeeded. I think I have quite a lovely wardrobe. But I'm definitely a tanktop & skirt / T-shirt & jeans / sweater & cordurouys / yoga pants & spandex top kind of person. Plus I have a predilection for loud, borderline obnoxious prints. And I have to admit that a lot of my clothes have holes or sweat stains or are worn down pretty badly.
I hate to admit it, but my mom and sister told me so. Boy, did they ever.
I always thought I'd get through life without actually needing nice work clothes. Imagine my reaction when I found out that med students have to wear business casual clothes a good deal, including all shadowing experiences: Uh-oh. Button-down shirts? Pencil skirts? Sensible shoes? Slacks? Blazer? Um, I own none of the above.
So today, my kind kind generous mother bought me slacks and button-down shirts and shoes to boot. I stood in front of mirror after mirror after mirror, wondering if I can ever get used to seeing myself in such straight-edge sensible clothing. I couldn't really take my reflection seriously. Who was that girl in the mirror, in clothes so put together and respectable?
Not me, no way.
And then it hit me: Oh my goodness, I'm going to med school. People are going to have to look at me and believe that I'm put together, that they can trust me and respect me. I'm going to have to take myself seriously, that reflected version of me is going to have to be the person I am, not the person I'm playing make-believe to be.
Holy crap, when did all this time pass, and why didn't anyone tell me it was time to grow up?
5 comments:
I don't wanna grow up-- Just stay a Toys-R-Us kid like me.
What I learned from watching scrubs is that all you will ever wear is your assigned color of scrubs or a white lab coat that covers whatever else you are wearing. And yes I think that everything I see on TV is true.
Next time I'm around, I'll order you an americano shaken, not stirred.
PS - the whole growing up thing is over rated.
I'm a big fan of yoga pants too! As well as the tank tops I wear in layers on even the coldest days of winter.
Don't worry Jess you can still secretly slide on a pair of flip flops when no one is looking... that is in the comfort of your own apartment of course.
*sigh... i know how you feel. i had to buy actual like PURSE-bags and a suit and business shoes...
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