Its 6:30 a.m. Monday morning and I button up my pastel blue oxford and slip into my wool jumper that’s probably six inches above my knee, four inches less than the “fingertip rule,” but all the girls do it. I put on my light blue socks to match my shirt, and grab my suede Mary Janes as I walk out the door before I am late for homeroom.
It was the only detention I got in my four years of high school. I wouldn’t get the perfect conduct award my senior year.
I was pulled aside during lunch hour that day only to be informed by my evil vice-principle that my socks were, and I quote, “too lacy.” God forbid a horny teenage boy sees my ankles.
I always hated wearing a uniform.
However, I wore the same gray jumper, blue oxford, and socks recently to a party themed, “throwdown for your hometown.” I got in trouble that night too, we all did. My sorority is now placed on high-threat probabation.
Please God forgive me.
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