That is what I was taught today.
Courtesy of my math professor.
I desperately want to ask why she doesn't dye her roots the same beet red that she dyes the rest of her hair
And I really want to know the name and intelligence level of the person who told her that a blazer retained sophistication when worn with torn jeans and dirty Chuck Taylor's.
But my curiosity is what has put me into a slump today.
What my professor's wear shouldn't influence how I feel about them
But it does, or well it did.
Until she started having us watch Myth Busters and telling us about how she wasn't partial to drinks that looked like antifreeze, I can honestly say that I had assumed that this woman was someone who probably ate by herself at meal times.
One of the "those who can't do, teach," types that drives a car that no one has ever heard of and eats microwave meals in her living room while watching Star Trek reruns.
For the record, I'm not hating on microwave meals or Star Trek. I'm just giving you a little insight into what I'd pictured my math professor doing on weekends.
All of those assumptions fell in with the fact that she wore dirty shoes and how she always wore her jeans up past where I imagine her belly button would be. All of those assumptions were loads of crap.
I've always done this thing where I form opinions on people based on how they look, dress, articulate, chew their food.
And If you are up on your morally superior pedestal, pretending that you've never done this then you are either a saint, a new born baby or in denial.
Humans judge other humans on everything from their marital status to the color of their eyebrows. And that, to me is a pretty jerk move. I'm willing to admit to being a recovering hypocrite because I have done the prejudging thing and will probably unknowingly do it in the future.
What else astounds me is that the details that separate good judgements from bad are usually pretty small.
I had a history teacher a few years ago who also wore jeans with a blazer, strange footwear and admitted to having date nights with her dog. I mean she did lack bright red hair, I'll give her that. And while she never confessed to watching any stereotypical nerdy television programs, she did talk about cuddling with her puppy and wanting to watch Boys In The Hood instead of correcting tests. You know, the more I think about it, the stranger she seems.
But to anyone who had never had a non-scholastic conversation with her, she was just an easy grader with blonde hair, long legs and a band of loyal, male teenage admirers.
All of the things that made up her reputation were based solely on outward behavior that she exhibited at school, the way she dressed and for some really peculiar reason, the pitch of her laugh. She was one of those "throw your head back and laugh while the wind blows through your hair," types. She ate salads with "lite," dressing, bleached her hair and carried a purse. She sat with her legs crossed and only brought up The Voice when asked about what she did outside of school.
I'm not defending her acting like a bimbo because I know her to be a pretty intelligent person and as the years progressed I found myself pretty disturbed by the way that she acted in public.
For females, I don't want to undermine crossing our legs, especially when the skirt you choose to wear isn't very much larger than your underpants. There is also nothing wrong with carrying a purse or eating salad. I just happen to know that in the privacy of her own home, and on beaches and at restaurants this woman probably didn't think twice about crossing her legs.
All I'm saying is that whatever flaws you do have, you are probably aware of.
My previous history teacher was probably aware of the fact that most people aren't interested in running 5k marathons or having conversations with their dogs.
It sucks enough having to listen to your own voice tell you that you're overweight or that you aren't as smart as the sixteen year old that is taking a freshman psychology class at your university, who even though you've asked nicely, still feels the need to kick the back of your chair during exams.
Having other people judge you because of that is equally if not more sucky than the daily reminders that you give yourself. This is coming from someone who has been called a fat ass, and also recently a "twig bitch," so I consider myself to have experienced the spectrum of less than desirable qualities. Being called a "twig bitch," by my loving roommate, actually gave me a kick in the direction of writing about this. She also wants to be "a little skinnier so that she can wear a hat." She says her face is just too short and wide, but somewhere, deep in her soul, she has a beautiful face, and a perfect sized head for any hat.
The problem is that no one will ever know about it.
Partially because a lot of people are too afraid to know, (she plays rugby and could probably bench press me.)
But mostly because, and this is factual, she is worried about the way that other people look at her.
I would just like to question the population of planet earth and ask: What malfunctioned in your head and gave you the authority or right to decided someone's self worth based solely on how they choose to spend their free time Hmm?
So what if some people like to watch Robot Wars. and skip the gym?
Who cares if some folks prefer to wear what you consider "ratty," shoes?
Some of these people might have more personality and spontaneity than you ever will.
I'm going to go interrupt my room mate's pancake dinner and apologize for making her feel guilty about eating ice cream.
And then hopefully she will apologize for calling my cereal "rabbit food."
The point of this is that people like my incredibly athletic and lovable room mate and my dedicated and intelligent math professor shouldn't have to spend their lives being judged by "twig bitches."
My math teacher has a master's degree, a published book and an iPad, and I do not, so that alone is enough to convince me that she is doing something right. So Ms. G, rock on with your un-dyed roots and your Hamilton Circuits.
And for my room mate: If you want to eat ice cream, I will keep my vegan/health conscious comments to myself. If you want to get another tattoo, I'm not going to judge you. Heck, if you want to cut off all your hair and start referring to yourself as Josh, well then you'd be breaking the co-ed policy in our residential dorming agreement, but I won't stop loving you.
Peace, Love and Cool As A Moose Maine,
Katherine
P.S. I lost my Cool As A Moose Maine shirt, when I was ten, on purpose so that my mother wouldn't find out that i'd been teased at school for wearing it.
Sorry mom.
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| I'm feeling really glad that I don't drink soda |
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