Yes, it is that day again: the night before the first day of school. In movies like Clueless (1995) and Grease (1978), they always show the first day of school as an exciting and joyous occasion–as if students hated summer and wished they attended school all year round. We all know how hard summer can be, between lounging on the beach and hanging out with friends; because students would much rather spend their days waking up at 6 AM, being locked in a classroom for six and a half hours taking tests while still having to do hours of homework when they return home. So, why do movies treat the first day of school like it is a prayer answered from the heavens?
Anyways, I have always hated the first day of school, or better yet any school day for as long as I can remember–which was yesterday. Girls think they have to look their best on the first day of school–as if they are going to be remembered for their light denim shorts and floral tank top. If people put in half the effort as girls do on their outfits, then there would be a cure for world hunger and cancer. Well, it is the same ritual for me every year, the night before the first day of school: I put down my almost finished king size Hershey bar, blast Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” and go to my closet and ask myself “Why do I not have anything to wear?”which is a question teenage girls ask themselves daily.
I have enough sweaters to clothe China and I still complain of not having enough clothes. I try on every top I have until I find one that is half decent. Next I try on shorts, praying that I can still button them considering I have not been to the gym in the past fifteen or sixteen years. Finally after wasting six hours of my life where I could have been watching all of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan’s movies together, an outfit has been decided on–which I know I will not like tomorrow.
At this point, I settle on a pair of shoes. I will never understand why girls love shoes. They are pretty, stylish, can pull a whole outfit together and…where was I going with this? Oh yes, they are the second most uncomfortable part of the outfit–right behind sucking in your gut all day. Now I have to go through my closet again, which looks like the morning after Black Friday, and find a pair of shoes that tie the whole outfit together. Once choosing the typical gold gladiators, another two hours have passed which I could have spent eating all of the leftovers from the Labor Day weekend barbeque.
I do not know why I spend eight hours every year picking out one outfit that will be forgotten within an hour after the bell rings. I wear an appealing outfit on the first day of school and after the first day is over, I wear sweatshirts and sweatpants as if I had nine cats and ‘Lifetime’ waiting for me at home. I always say that next year will be different, but here I am stressing over if I should paint my nails pink or red. Oh well, I will probably be here again next year.
But frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.