Let it be known that I am not a morning person. Upon waking up at six o’clock in the morning on any given school day to the sound of my blaring (or should I say, BLARING) alarm, doing practically anything seems like a daunting task. Though I can potentially skip breakfast and swap a toothbrush for a swish of mouthwash or even several sticks of gum, the only real necessity of the morning is putting on a semi-proper outfit. At that hour, figuring out how to transition from the sweats I slept in to an even moderately presentable outfit seems impossible, and this week I’ve decided to share this typically very drawn out process…
After waking up, I remind myself that I have to leave in 10 minutes. Not a problem.
I proceed to stare at the closet, and scan over my clothes. I notice how neatly folded my sweaters are (thanks to my mom, not to me) and wonder if they will all be on the floor in a few minutes.
I realize that I forgot to check the weather. I walk over to the wall, where my phone is charging. I am immediately distracted by notifications that my eyes were were not ready for a few minutes ago when I clumsily turned off my alarm. There goes three minutes.
All of a sudden I glance at the time at the top of my phone. What was I supposed to check again? Finally I remember and scroll through Accuweather, obsessively checking the hour by hour weather forecast, even though the day will end up like most any other day in San Francisco: foggy morning, warm in the afternoon, and by the time I get home, chillier and windy. Layers will be required.
I realize that I’m still in sweatpants, and spring into action. I wore leggings yesterday, so I can’t really look like a slob and wear them again today. Plus, I almost feel like leggings, with their soft and stretchy quality, are like giving in, whereas jeans are stiff and not 100% comfortable. Today is going to be a busy one, and somehow I convince myself that by wearing jeans I’ll stay more focused and on task.
I grab some tried and trues, possibly with a quick sniff test. My laundry pile is so large at this point that it has become obsolete: I can’t even remember which clothes are clean and which are dirty. I grab the safest looking pair of jeans, and put them on, remembering a belt which has somehow ended up in my sock drawer.
Now an essential piece of the outfit has been put into place. Success. Jeans take on a slightly more dressy quality, but I don’t want to be uncomfortable or try too hard with something blousey. I find myself reverting back to a basic tee. I am simultaneously annoyed by the simpleness of this choice I have been forced to make but appreciate the softness of the shirt. Anything to make the morning easier.
Shoes. These are a real necessity, but the simplest part because the answer is usually: sneakers.
I know that I’m about to be late at this point. A braid or even some makeup might be nice, but no time. I am glad that I didn’t take my jewelry off last night. So much more convenient this way. I grab a sweatshirt that hopefully says I am put together but presentable. The coffee hasn’t kicked in, and in search of comfort, I throw on a large sweatshirt most closely resembling a cocoon.
I grab my bag and dash off to the car. Surprisingly, the day is just beginning.
