From the first day of school to the last, I sported my awesome plaid uniform. First, it was the all-plaid jumper and then as we transitioned from grade to grade, it became our plaid skirts. It was a huge deal because it finally meant that we were growing up. In our eyes, it made us the cool kids because all of the younger girls were jealous of us. It's been almost a year since I've had to say goodbye to my amazing plaid friend, and now I realize that it was a huge part of my life and identity. This one is for you: my good 'ole uniform.
My plaid skirt was basically a napkin wrapped around my waist, all day, everyday. Why would I have to go get one when I could just wipe my hands on it really quick? I got paint on it from art class because I was too lazy to get up and wash my hands. I also had the countless amount of coffee stains from drinking coffee at our hangout after school. As my senior year came, I had the privilege of seeing just how many battle scars my skirt had. I wore these with pride, because it was a constant reminder of how much fun and craziness I had been through the past four years. So thank you skirt because you've "seam" it all (sorry, couldn't help myself).
My skirt taught me how to be extremely creative. As our new skirts turned into old, we could see the hems starting to fall out. We would walk around the halls with them hanging down, not really caring if we got into trouble (really, it was because we were too lazy to fix it). Of course we got in trouble with our teachers and we ended up getting written up for it. So in order to make sure that we didn't get a detention from the constant write ups, we came up with new and creative ways to fix the issue. We came to the realization that staples were a quick, yet effective, way to fix the hem. We spent time during homeroom passing the stapler from one to the other fixing them. Senior year, each one us had at least three staples holding up our skirts. It was a symbol of the constant battles we faced throughout our four years (and don't tell Mom, but it was also the way we got out of buying more skirts).
My dear plaid friend also saved me from going through my closet every morning scavenging for something to wear to school that day. Instead, I had the ability of waking up 30 minutes before school and throwing on my skirt really quick. I have countless memories of me being half asleep and just searching around my room until I felt the familiar fabric. The time I saved from getting dressed, I used to drive to my favorite coffee shop in the morning to get my daily iced coffee and blueberry muffin. So, thank you skirt for allowing me to get my caffeine fix.
Although my skirt was an outlet for my creativity or a napkin wrapped around my waist, it was also a huge marker of my identity. It always a joy seeing my 47 other sisters sporting the same thing everyday. It meant that we were all part of the same place, had the same morals and had the same dreams. Now that I'm in college, I wake up truly missing my old, battle scared, coffee-smelling plaid skirt. I miss all the memories that are attached to it. You will forever be part of my identity, skirt, never forget it.
