Feeling like Clark Kent in ginormous frames and silly tights, and calling upon my inner dork.
Isn't it funny that we grow up being teased as kids for dressing in any way strangely? I sincerely loved wearing things when I was little that made me look a bit wacko and often anticipated the awkward attention I'd get with a tinge of excitement. "What will they think today of my baggy maroon velvet pants and oversized polka dot top?" I'd say to myself with glee... walking up the path from the lower parking lot of the church, ducking by the overbearing brick stairway of the principal's office, and skipping past the flagpole to get in line for morning prayers. Of course, this was only once a month that I was able to express my fashionable creativity, as the rest of the school year I was stuffed into an ugly burgundy and slate gray jumper with button down dress blouse and itchy sweater. Come to think of it, the blouse was not so bad; it had a cute rounded collar and I liked the cool feeling of the lightweight breathable cotton. The sweater would've been fine too - if it hadn't made my delicate skin lash out in an angered roar of bright red. I'd just like to say that half the reason I may have seemed not to be paying the best of attention during morning prayers can be attributed to the itchiness of that sweater, and not entirely to my attention deficit motioning my eyes over to the much more intriguing butterfly, squirrel, or crow perched atop the school roof. And I was very good at standing in line on time before the last bell would ring, for good measure.
|very much out of grade school, but still giggling at butterflies.|