Freshman 15.

When you get to college, you typically gain weight and let yourself go.

I mean, it is just too easy to stumble down the stairs and into class wearing the t-shirt that proudly proclaims that your volleyball team went to state during your sophomore year in high school, the lettering stretched so tragically beyond belief that no one can actually read the year that you could last consume french fries at midnight without any adverse side effects.

Oh, and one of those fuzzy blankets that every Girl Scout troop in Wisconsin made c. 2000 with the fleece from Wal-Mart.

Oh. I’m sorry. That may or may not have happened to me.

(DSHA Rugby 200…I’m sorry. I can’t tell what year you graduated because your boyfriend clearly broke up with you about a week ago and the cafeteria has been open late for finals.)

I mean, not me personally. In my classes. I actually lost weight when I got to college because I’m poor and had to commute and dragging low-grade fleece around the East Side loses its appeal when you have to drive an hour to appear slovenly.

No, in undergrad I had it together. I was frickin’ adorable. Seriously. My hair was always done. I wore headbands frequently. Dark wash jeans that fit well, coordinated outfits, I only wore sweatshirts if it was Friday (I didn’t have classes- it was okay to be slovenly if I only had to study.) or I had a cold or something. And even then they were cute and fitted.

Hell, I was in heels most of the time.

I had a pedicure until it became so cold that there was absolutely ZERO chance that my toes would be seeing the light of day. And even then because you never know when you’re going to need to wear a dressy peep toe pump.

(Answer? NEVER.)

Honestly. I was that girl. It was like the Preppy Handbook threw up on me.

Well. I graduated. And started grad school. With night classes. And…well, let’s just say that the only thing that hasn’t happened is the weight gain because I’m too tired to eat.

Thank God I have to teach, so I still kind of manage to pull it together during the day.

And can I just say that this whole up-and-looking-like-an-adult-by-seven-am for more than two days in a row? EXHAUSTING. I’ve started keeping flip-flops in my trunk to wear while walking from my car because honestly it was that or wear them for the classes and I’m hoping to scare my students with my stilettos.*

But my night classes? Sweatshirts, t-shirts, the bad jeans that take whatever butt I have (minimal) and make it look…I don’t even know but NOT GOOD. I’m rocking flip-flops with nail polish that I put on around the Fourth of July.

It’s awful. Last night I was driving to class and realized there was pudding in my hair. I kind of picked out the chunks.

It’s just…I’m so tired. I don’t function well after seven and really not at all after nine and so trust me, you do not want me talking about Federalism and conservatism at 9:30 when I have to be back and wearing something resembling a skirt in less than twelve hours.

It’s…it’s just not pretty.

Last night I walked past my mom carrying a skirt. She asked if I wearing it to class. I almost fell over laughing.

Ah. No. I was in fact going to wear the jeans with the odd stain on the knee and the Brewers t-shirt.

But my closet is all the way upstairs and if I didn’t bring it down then? Well, when I had to wake up a shockingly small number of hours after getting home again I was just as likely to just wear my jammies to class.

Maybe by midterms I’ll be accessorizing with the Wal-Mart blanket.

(And yes, my closet is on a different floor than my bedroom. Don’t ask.)

*Incidentally, I can’t figure out if it’s working AMAZINGLY or NOT AT ALL. I’m either the best teacher ever. Or I’ll be murdered during my office hours.

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