Wednesday morning I rolled out of bed at seven-thirty, scraping my eyes to see, forgetting I needed glasses to do that. I had an eight a.m. math class in a cold classroom in the basement that morning light doesn’t touch. I rummaged through my dresser drawer and pulled out my favorite -almost presentable, only has one hole in the knee- sweatpants. I had them half-way on before I remembered, no sweatpants to class. I looked at myself in the mirror and let out an internal ughhhhhhh, before flopping off the sweatpants and wiggling into a pair of jeans.
I have nothing against sweatpants. One of my favorite Christmas gifts this year was a pair of sweatpants with foot covers attached. When I didn’t want to roll out of bed into my cold bedroom I remembered the footy-pants and would slip them on, feeling like I was walking around in my own portable sleeping bag. But, this semester, I’ve resolved not to wear sweatpants to class.
When my professor asked why, I responded, “I need to treat myself like a real person.” Admittedly, that could mean an abundance of things. Maybe I’m under the impression that I look more gremlin-like in sweatpants (I do) or maybe wearing sweatpants makes me feel like I’m in bed all day (it does). What I meant to say, though, is that I deserve the energy it takes to wrestle on skinny jeans in the morning. I deserve to not feel like a sleepy gremlin all day. I’m worth getting dressed.
For me, putting on jeans, a skirt, or a dress, is an act of self-care. In the moments it takes for me to tuck in a shirt I am fortifying myself to feel presentable and present in the rest of my day. I am already planning a pajama day for myself (we all need a break) and I most certainly wear sweats at home, but in class, I will be wearing clothing that uplifts my attitude.