The Power of Pinstripe

Some days I feel kind of like a poseur. And not in a hipster, techie, punk, stereotypical niche-type way. I feel like an adult poseur.

I show up to work every day like a responsible adult does. I do my job, and I do it well. I have a car and a home and the bills to prove it. I actually pay for things like heat and electricity. Secretly though, I'm always wishing I could be home in jeans and a sweatshirt watching cartoons and letting my mom make me grilled cheese. I miss the days when my greatest worry was getting my Bio homework done and wondering whether any of my friends would still be talking to each other by the time I made it to school the next day. Sometimes my 28 year old brain doesn't seem to like that I've had to evolve past that stage into something else. But what? Pseudo-adulthood?

This little secret (and please keep it to yourself, internet, thank you very much!) appears to manifest itself at school every once in a while. Like today, when I overheard a student making completely inappropriate yet hilariously funny remarks about a substitute teacher. Rather than admonish them, as an adult who is responsible for student's minds probably should, I let it slide. Was it because I can remember so vividly what it's like to be young and stupid, or was it because my mean streak thought their comments were apt and amusing? I just don't know.

The worst days for this type of problem seem to be Dress Down Fridays. Nothing screams "don't take me seriously, kids!" more than low-rise jeans, a Roxy thermal, and Steve Madden wellie boots with little skulls on them.

But honestly, how am I supposed to get the quality gossip when I'm wearing pinstripes and Polo?