Here are the most asexual uniforms ever. Our chests imploded under the vests and the pleated skirts fanned out like drawn movie theater curtains. As if I didn’t have enough issues with my body, I had to strap myself into this polyester get-up every morning and assure myself that as long as I could use my tongue to tie a cherry stem into a knot, someone would want me. At least I would be fun at parties.
Casual Day came once a year, like the Christmas we weren’t allowed to have because the school said Jesus was not born in December and Santa Claus was pagan. Also pagan: the Easter Bunny and Barney.
Casual Day also coincided with my goth phase, so instead of wearing my black penguin suit, I wore a long black skirt and a puffy white blouse. I completed the outfit with an ankh, heavy eyeliner, and a moral compass that pointed to the darkside.
And when I wasn’t scrawling long odes to my pain–oh the abyssmal, unique teen pain–I was yelling, “CIRCLE JERK!” at cameras long before my friends knew what that meant.
If I didn’t have photographic proof, would you believe me?