Fashionably Inept

Pregnant or Asian cowboy? Those were my choices. I am not talking about a ridiculous outfit for Halloween (GIRLS, PLEASE STOP DRESSING LIKE SLUTS! YOU'RE NOT EVEN CUTE OR SEXY ANYMORE!). But I digress. Those were my choices when my clothes are all dirty, and I desperately need to do laundry. Most people in Emory know that I wear my Resident Life Housing red Polo shirt when I need to do my laundry. But I have never gone to this extreme before. All I had left was a nasty pair of jeans that smell like a mix between fish and cereal, sneakers that don't match, and a button down plaid shirt that I've had since the 7th grade. The problem is that when I let it loose and not tucked in, I look like i'm pregnant (the fact that I find the gym more repulsive than Laguna Beach doesn't help). When I tuck it in, I look like a sad excuse for an Asian cowboy. You know you are not looking well when you take the morning look at the mirror and you don't say, "Oh God!" but you just stare with mouth wide open and a sigh of acceptance, saying, "Well, at least I didn't crap myself." And you receive confirmation in your horrible look for the day when girls look at you, take a long pause, and say, "Well, you look quite different today." Girls never have to say anything mean to make you feel like utter crap, as if I just raped the Pope or something. (Did I just go there? What? Yes I did!).

I needed to escape the insufferable superficiality of Emory's campus, so John and I went to 722, a nice relief from papers and bad DUC jokes to blasting praise music and God stuff. Heading into the shopping mall church that is Northpoint, I was misplaced. This couldn't be, no, no. This isn't Kansas, Mr. Wizard. I am in a GAP commercial or a Vanity Fair magazine. No!!! My jeans did not have weird lines going in all directions nor did it have holes. Well, at least not in the perfect places. My shirts do not look like I am going to a softcore popular "hard" rock band. I didn't know I was going to go clubbing. I am going to church. Why do the hair remind me of Dawson's Creek? No, it's okay. These are the people. Of course, they are like this. Maybe the praise leaders will be different. Kristian Stanfill walks out. What in the crap of living hell is that? Suddenly, my Christian praise leader is still in Halloween mode, becoming more EMO than any Dashboard Confessional song. His hair dyed black (and to think, I didn't like how black my Asian hair was), and swept across the front of his forehead with the look that screams "Look, everyone! I have mastered the 3-hour work of art that makes me look like I just got out of bed. Natural, isn't it?"

(Disclaimer, I actually did enjoy the rest of 722 and it was a great break from schoolwork.)

Walking out of the building, I glanced back at me and with clenched eyebrows, I wonder why I am a Christian. Looking back down at myself, I felt more out of place here than in Emory. I've never quite fell fashionably in place in most of the religious settings I've been a part of. I was kid and I was poor. So I didn't wear "good stuff" to church. I wore t-shirt and shorts (though much of it was really just to play basketball). That carried on throughout high school except days when I had to lead in which case I would pull out the random good shirt I had, but then I would feel out of place with my own peers. The unspoken fashion rules follow me no matter where I go, but in that I take solace in this:

"John's clothes were made of camel's hair, and he had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey." - Matthew 3:4

Wait? John the Baptist? What? One of the greatest heroes of the Bible? The man that prepared the way for my God and even baptized Jesus and eventually becoming a martyr makes Screech Powers look like P. Daddy Puffer Puff diddy kong. What if i dressed up like John the Baptist one day to church? "Have you no respect for God? Should you not wear your best attire," I would hear preached to me over and over again, and maybe this is my imagination, but I call it actual things that were actually said in the past that have only begun to resurface in my own present imagination now.

When in a mission trip type setting or even a camp setting, we can live off maybe two or three days worth of close for an indeterminate amount of time. And yet, I find that I must live with at least 5 pairs of jeans, 8 different pairs of shoes, 4 different jackets, and 40 different t-shirts, and anyway, you get the point.

Well, I don't really know my own point. But maybe for just a good 2 or 3 months, I should just live off of 2 to 3 days of clothing and see how the world looks at me. God, I am turning into Arunan.

Random shoutout:
Liza is single, redheaded, from Connecticut, sells out to the Indianapolis Colts, likes clam chowder, and pretends she's brown on occasion. For anyone who is interested to take a short jog in the beach with her, leave a comment.