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Blognukkah Day 9 + 10: Why I Haven’t Worn Pants In Three Years || My Style Evolution

Fridays are very casual. They’re “no client” days, which I consider a fashion show. As my best friend says, “I don’t want clients seeing a single inch of my skin”, but on Fridays, when no client is there, my skirt can be a little shorter.

I managed to get three reports out and was well on the way to completing a fourth, but my supervisor only has so much time, and each of us had work to review with him. It was a productive day. Fridays also end early (1 pm!) which meant that I got to beat traffic on the way to my grandparents’ house. My grandma’s birthday is this weekend, so I stopped on the way to her house to pick up the last of my gifts (and to buy gifts on behalf of my mom as well). You know it’s a good gift when you’d be pleased to receive it yourself.

After that first errand, I stopped at a thrift store by my grandma’s house. I found the most majestic coat for myself, in my size. It had but one flaw. It smelled like a chain smoker. Whoever wore it last could compete with a fire breathing dragon. But! Real suede! Real fur! I took to googling. I also explained the situation to my grandma, whom I consider a clothing magician when it comes to all things cleaning, altering, and sewing. We used a leather spray on the outside, paired with hair conditioner to gently wash the fur. The smell was not gone. I hung it outside for a day. Still, the scent prevailed.

“Do you think the lady died of lung cancer and her coat got donated?” I asked. Sometimes I think that my friend’s dark humor rubs off on me.

“Maybe it just didn’t fit anymore,” my grandma speculated. “She could be alive, well, and rocking other fur coats.” I hoped that was the case.

I decided to call in the reinforcements: a reddit group on cleaning smoke out of thrifted leather. Yup, apparently that exists. They recommended diluting vinegar with water and using a spray bottle for the inside, then hanging the jacket outside for a week. Well, I sprayed the vinegar solution, and we are going on day two of the jacket hanging outside. I will let you know if it still conjures up images of blackened lungs after a week.

In other news, the professor responded to my somewhat panicked email about my grade on the mock comp exam. I saw it on Friday and breathed the world’s longest sigh of relief. Apparently, not only is my score of 24.58 considered passing, it would be good enough to pass the real comp exam without even considering the oral version. The minimum score to “pass” the written test is 22, and when you present your exam orally, you have the chance to earn even more points. I immediately sent this email to the close friends in my cohort.

On Saturday, I re-read the Fault In Our Stars (what a privilege it is to re-read a book that you already know you love!) and talked with my grandparents.

I also stumbled across old pictures of myself wearing pants, and it reminded me that as of today, I haven’t worn pants in public for about 3 years. It all started one night with a promise. I felt that my chances of getting into grad school were very bleak. Graduate schools were looking at my last two years (when I was pre-med) rather than at all four years of undergraduate education. I was desperate and thought that I could never be a psychologist with that gpa.

While crying, my 18-year-old self made a promise to God: “hey, I will do my best not to gossip” (this is considered a pretty huge sin) “and I’ll dress modestly. In exchange can you please help me get into grad school?”. Thirty minutes later, my top choice doctoral program called back and said “you’re totally eligible to apply. We are considering all four years, so your GPA isn’t going to disqualify you.”

A promise is a promise, and God kept his end of it, because I did get accepted. So, from that moment on, I tried not to gossip about others, and I wore skirts. It’s pretty clear why I chose “no gossip”, but modesty takes slightly more explaining (especially for a single 18-year-old who felt that she was in her prime years of hotness).

The reasoning behind my decision was two-fold: 1) I was finally confident enough to realize that my body wasn’t the most interesting thing about me and 2) my clothing changed how I felt in tangible ways. I felt classier, more sophisticated, and like people were taking me more seriously.

This is how I dressed in college:

This is how I dress now

I do wear leggings when I exercise because frankly, with the weight lifting I do, skirts would be a safety hazard. I am not perfect. There are days when all I want is a good vintage pair of overalls.

But modesty is a personal choice. And I am happy with my choice.


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Hi everyone! I started my doctorate in clinical psychology in fall 2020. A google search revealed that there are no current grad school blogs for psychology students. Anyway, I happen to know a girl who wants to document her journey to getting a doctorate (spoiler: it's me). Welcome. Hope you stay awhile!

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