College campuses breed and spread viruses at epidemic proportions--Hepatitis, the flu and the I-look-so-terrible-when-I-roll-out-of-bed-to-go-to-class-I-might-as-well-have-died plague. And while Hepatitis can be avoided with pre-college vaccines, nothing can prepare you for the contagious wave of apathy that hits you when choosing class attire.
My little sis in the sorority (who after much cajoling and cookie-based bribery, agreed to model here) is the perfect example of such phenomena. The first few months I saw Lee, she was always dolled up for functions--hair, makeup, cute clothes, cuter accessories--seemingly the epitome of the put-together, blonde sorority girl.
Then, over the summer (the Duke in Durham program--gasp!), we met up at a party. I was introducing her around, and this guy was falling all over himself to meet her. Finally, Lee cut him off, "I know you; I sit next to you in class." His jaw dropped, "Ooooh, you always wear sweats, right?" Lee swears this has happened multiple times.
And like most of those most drastically affected, Lee dressed up in high school. As did Kissy, another victim of the I'd-rather-sleep syndrome. "Oh, I definitely dressed nicer in high school," Kissy nodded. "Back then, I actually cared."
Sadly I, too, was not immune. When I walked into the Recess office this week--in stereotypical college fair of jeans and a sweater--there was a collective gasp. "You look so nice, Whit." A look of bemusement--like being asked out by a guy you swore was gay--registered on my face. Then I realized, why they were so impressed: I had showered. You see, if you set the bar low enough, exceeding expectations is as easy as studying abroad in Australia.
--Whitney Beckett
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