T-shirt time in Scribner: The peril of getting ready with girls

Posted by Jack McDermott

Last Friday at about 6 p.m. I was sitting in my living room enjoying a nice bowl of barbecue chicken and a bottle of root beer (light on the "root" of course) while listening to some Janelle Monae. You know, nice and relaxing.

In a couple hours I would head upstairs, throw on some jeans and a button down, brush my teeth and pour myself a nice…steaming hot cup of fresh apple cider of course. But it was only 6 p.m., the night was young.

Meanwhile, my five housemates were all upstairs running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Or to be a little less graphic, like the spastic Skidmore squirrels in front of Case looking for acorns.

You think I'm joking, but my routine for getting ready to go out could not be more different than theirs. Not to mention about three hours shorter.

First they have to decide what clothes to wear. They're running back and forth between each other's closets, trying on a hundred different outfits. Also, other girls are coming in and out of their houses, borrowing, bringing, swapping and exchanging clothes.

When we were first deciding rooms there was some drama about what would happen if there was a room without a closet — who would get it. I really don't know why it was an issue, it's not like it matters whether they have separate closets or not.

One thing I've come to understand about girls is that when they live together, all of their closets become one giant department store without any credit cards or registers — all clothes are ripe for the taking.

There was one night when four of my friends, all from different Scribner houses, were each wearing outfits that belonged to just one of my housemates.

After they find clothes, they have to decide what shoes to wear. Yeah, we're back to shoes.

They have to pick out one pair of shoes from the collective 85, and it has to match their outfit. Good luck.

One time they even dressed me. I've never had to deal with so many clothing rules before. They had everything precise, from the color of the jeans to the specific amount of buttons I was supposed to leave open on my shirt.

I had to wear a plain white undershirt, which I had to borrow from the guys next door because the only white shirts I own have designs on them, and they said a colored shirt was not good, at least not with the specific button down shirt I wanted to wear.

I couldn't wear shorts because apparently when going out there is a type of shirt you can wear with jeans, a type you can wear with khakis and a type you can wear with shorts; all are very different, and not interchangeable under any circumstances.

And, they spent a good 10 minutes picking out my shoes….I only have three, remember? It shouldn't be that hard.

Last but not least, they have to "put on their faces". That process takes at least 20 minutes alone. They have to put on mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow. They have to curl their eyelashes, put on lipstick, foundation, concealer and blush. They have to paint their nails and, lastly, do their hair.

And then, finally, when it's all said and done, after they've spent all this time, they change into a completely different outfit.

Now, I can't lie, they look absolutely incredible once they are all dressed and ready. But I live with them, and have seen them when they wake up and when they are at their so called "worst," and honestly, they look just as good.

When you live with another person, you have to deal with his or her routines. People can have ridiculous, annoying, simple or funny ways of getting ready. All you can really do is adapt, and make the most of the differences between routines.

I always know that my Friday and Saturday nights will be extremely entertaining as I watch my housemates try to "sex up a turtleneck". And I must even admit, I once picked out an outfit for one of them.

Jack McDermott is from Mars, but he lives on Venus.

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