October 7, 2008

Call the Fashion Police and Get me some Hydrocortisone

I hate to wash new clothing. What fits perfectly in the store always fits differently after being washed. I neglected to pick out my clothes for teaching last night, so I was scrambling in a dark closet this morning. A wash in cold water and a dry on delicate didn’t help. My pants that were previously the perfect length are now an inch shorter. They’re not flood pants but they’re not touching my heels the way I like.

My sweater said "lay flat to dry" but it was put in the dryer by accident. It now shows my ~~puny~~ muscular arms and my lower back when I sit. It’s not at all cool, but not enough of a reason to abandon the outfit altogether.

As I was finishing up in the bathroom, my Mom walked by me and told me that the pocket flaps on the butt were sticking up. I hate ironing, but this was one pair of pants that needed it. Unless I wanted to look like I had wings on my butt, I was going to have to break out the iron. I begrudgingly made my way to the laundry room and worked for a good five minutes to get those flaps flat. I abandoned the mission when I realized that it just wasn’t going to happen. They weren’t sticking straight up anymore, but they definitely didn’t look the way they did when I bought them.

I should also mention that I have two mosquito bites on my forehead. One is dead center and the other is right near the part in my hair. Unless I take the Donald Trump approach, there was just no way to create a sweeping bang that sufficiently covered up the bites. When I get a mosquito bite, it’s very bad. I have scars on my legs from them. Apparently, I am very sensitive and possibly even allergic to them, and I react badly. The forehead is no exception to the swelling and redness that accompanies such a bug bite for me. I’ve been getting picked on by my family for days now.

So, with flaps sticking up on my pants and a heavy sweeping bang, I trudged off to campus this morning, intent on keeping the attention off of me and my obvious fashion and complexion faux-pas.

I felt I had made it and was walking down the steps of the building that houses my classroom after class, when a man with a large camera approached me. He surprised me and asked if he could use me as a model. I didn’t feel like I really had a choice. I sort of nodded and he mumbled that he would be right back. In his place, he left a huge camera case filled with equipment.

A student was nearby studying outside and he said, "Don’t worry. He’s legit. He was in my class taking pictures this morning." So I waited and he emerged with a student who looked as bewildered and unsure as I felt. He instructed us to walk awkwardly close together, down the sidewalk, while he stood about a half block away snapping pictures of us. He instructed us to smile and use hand gestures. I had never seen this student before. Awkward was putting it lightly.

We exchanged introductions as we walked down the sidewalk. Then the photographer had us stop, go back and start over again. This time, he wanted us to walk even more closely together, with more hand gestures. He did, however, tell me that my hair was behaving just as it should. "It’s blowing in the breeze beautifully." "Good," I thought to myself, "then maybe people won’t notice my forehead."

After we had walked down the sidewalk three times, the photographer had us stand extremely close together. He instructed me to stand there and appear interested, smiling, while the student had to use hand gestures. We did this for at least five minutes. We were running out of casual conversation for when you have to stand too close to someone.

When we were all finished, I asked the photographer how these pictures will be used. Apparently, the admissions office will be using them for their website, brochures and other promotional materials (including advertisements) for the university.

At this point, I’m just worried about showing up in the "don’t" column of some magazine. Maybe I’ll get on a makeover show someday after all.