Bananas in Pajamas

I attend the local community college five mornings a week. My classes are full of all sorts of people....new graduates trying to save money, middle agers in the midst of changing careers, young, old, rich, poor. There are Jaguars next to the Tercels, Mercedes next to the Fiestas.
People come to class in all sorts of dress. There are those in their Baby Phat or head to toe Volcom. This being Virginia Beach, hoodies and flip flops are de rigueur. Some wear make up, some wear none. A few guys gel and shellac their hair, some don't bother to comb it at all. And, of course, this is college, so a few roll in wearing their jammy pants (Sponge Bob and snowflakes are popular right now) and bedroom slippers, hair pulled in a messy bun, an aura of sleep surrounding their bleary heads.
All very understandable.
What I can't wrap my mind around are those in coordinated sleep wear and pageant makeup. If you can arrange your hair in face framing tendrils and apply layers of black eyeliner, then you can throw on some jeans and a sweater. Even some cute sweats, they have great ones now with sparkles and little pink dogs. If you can match your slippers to your PJ top, then you can wrangle up a pair of sneakers. Or even matching flip flops.

Kids These Days

I've been back at school for a little more than a year after being out for almost 17 years. It has taken some getting used to, but, overall, not a bad experience. Progress, technologically speaking, has been great. Flash drives, Power Point presentations, OWLs (Online Web-based Learning - yeah, I thought it was some cool Harry Potter thing too). It's still the SSDD. Homework, quizzes, procrastination. Trying to stay awake in class, although now, it's because I did laundry and dishes, not the cute guy who sat next to me in Earth Science.
I have noticed one definite difference. Teachers aren't respected as much as they used to be. Or has my tolerance for bull just been lowered? I have a Chemistry teacher who does not tolerate lateness. He locks the door and begins speaking at precisely 9:30. Meanwhile, I have classmates stapling papers, zipping up bookbags, whispering back and forth with their neighbors. It burns him up! His ears turn red, he annihilates with cutting sarcasm. And still students roll their eyes and wonder why he's so uptight.
And cell phones! I would never text during lecture (although I supoose at my advanced age it is impressive that I text at all). Yet people are texting, checking out MySpace, and there are some who don't even bother to take notes.
See, I knew at age eighteen I wouldn't be able to handle college. Why waste my time in class when I could be sleeping or hanging out with my friends. These days some chose to spend so much a credit hour to do at school what I used to do at home for free.

Wow...an Invisible Fat Girl

It seems strange to me, but as I've gotten bigger (yes, older too), I've become harder to see. Not just by men, but by a lot more people than I thought possible. I once worked with a teeny, tiny girl who slammed into me on a daily basis. Like she thought she could walk right through me.
And at school! I'm walking through the doors of the science building at the local community college, work men milling about and a hose swings from the roof and bops me on my forehead. I kept, walking, unhurt, but not one person ( and I know it didn't go unnoticed) asked if I was ok or even giggled. Nadda. I've had doors slammed in my face, people trying to enter a door I'm trying to exit (hey - it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that only one of us is going to make it through the door and it will probably be me).
Really, not bitter at all. When I was skinny, I craved this anonyminty. I couldn't pump gas, buy socks or even read a newspaper in public without someone asking me something, men and women alike. Now, I'm in plain view, observing everything and everyone. It is amazing what one notices while being unnoticed.