To the college freshman

 

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“There should be a Hunger Games-style cannon each time a freshman drops out of pre-med.”

I remember reading this somewhere just before I started my first year of college. At the time, I was on a pre-pharmacy track majoring in chemistry. I wouldn’t be that person to change my major.

And then I found myself hating my biology and chemistry classes. Mind you, they were Chem and Bio I, but I hated them. Labs were the worst part of my week. I had no interest in what I was doing. Not to mention I was stressed about more years of that Krebs cycle-induced nightmare.

My saving grace that first semester was taking English and debate classes. I felt in control of what I was doing and learning in them. I liked to say what I thought. I loved presenting ideas and using facts to support them. Those classes made me feel excited about learning.

I changed my major in October of my first semester.

Incoming freshmen, please don’t think you have to keep the major you declared when you applied to college. Please don’t continue on a path that makes you physically and mentally sick. Please don’t think you won’t be or are better than that person who drops out of pre-med/pharm/engineering/whatever.

You are about to become a totally different person than you were the day you hit “apply” with your parent over your shoulder making sure you filled out the college application correctly.

You are about to take courses that will challenge you to think in new ways.

Embrace the general education classes that seem to have nothing to do with your declared major. They may inspire you to look at new paths.

Try a random class just because it sounds fun. You may actually like making pottery (although my roommate hated it, and we spent a full semester complaining about her class. Roomie bonding, yeah?)

Just don’t go in thinking, “This is what I’m going to do. I will not change my mind. Don’t tell me my declared major will be different by next fall.”

Have fun out there, pre-med students. As for me, I’ll stick to the words.

BOOM. (That’s my Hunger Games-style cannon going off for being a pre-pharm drop out. Or maybe it’s just a mic drop?)

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I bought overalls the other day.

I saw them in a shop’s Instagram post, and I wanted them because cute overalls are hard to find.

Knowing the overalls came in sizes S-2XL, I figured I’d need a large. I’m pretty used to wearing clothes in that range.

You know what they say about assumptions, right?

I picked up a large pair, and they were RIDICULOUSLY SMALL. I think the last time I could have worn them was seventh grade when I had no hips.

I picked up the XL pair, but they still looked tiny. I grabbed the 2XL pair, thought “surely not,” and took them both to the dressing room.

The XL pair did not fit. Again, hips. So I sucked up my pride and put the 2XL pair on. They fit. (Actually, they were still pretty tight.)

My ego was broken.

But you should know that I’ve been looking for a cute pair of overalls for a LONG time. I really didn’t care what the tag said. They fit, and I was going to get them.

The lady who sold them to me commented on how cute they were. I said, “Yeah, but I could deal without them being a 2XL.” She said they were shipped from an overseas retailer. I guess that explains the whack sizing.

I consider myself to be an average-sized human. I’m not thin, and I definitely enjoy ice cream and espresso drinks too often. Just kind of average.

In my closet, I have several pairs of jeans, shorts and skirts. Of those, I have sizes eight, 10, 12, 14, 14/16, M, L, and 29/8 (whatever that means.) Every single one fits.

Seriously?

Who makes these sizes up? I wear a lot of Old Navy clothes, but I wear everything from a six to a 14. The only difference is I bought the clothes during different seasons. When I go to buy a pair of pants or shorts, it’s only luck if I pick a size that actually fits. Usually there’s a lot of looking at the garment and eyeball-ing it to see if I think it’s closest to my size.

So who really cares what the number says?

Some of my favorite clothes have labels that sound a little higher than I’d like them to, but they fit the best. I’d rather wear a size XL shirt that fits me well than a size medium that stretches in all the wrong places.

And seriously, that XL may have been a medium at some point.

Wear what you want. Don’t let a size deter you from wearing what flatters your body.