Why I Should Start Wearing Polo Shirts

In my playwriting class, there is a girl who reminds me a little of myself in a way that I can stomach. She is a little shy and always looks a bit nervous. I would like to talk to this girl sometime, but there aren’t very many opportunities, since I must leave that class in a hurry. She sports polo shirts, long socks, short pants, and old tennis shoes. And I find myself thinking, “Well, at least my clothes are cuter than hers.”

Really? This is what the love of Christ has taught me? I shouldn’t be judging this girl by her clothes. How can I be so shallow, so superficial, so Godless? Why in the world does it matter what she wears? She’s not showing half her breasts or her butt crack, which oddly is much more socially acceptable than wearing polo shirts. Sheesh. I think I’ll wear my polo shirts too. 

But at the same time, why does it hurt me and cause me to be bitter when people judge me (if they ever are, which can’t be proven)? Why do I get weirded out when people look at me like I’m an alien when I run to class with my backpack and tennis racket strapped to me (running is absolutely necessary if I want to be on time). Why do I care when a girl doesn’t want to answer my homework related question? Or when I get dirty looks for being myself, which is, at times, unpolished and frazzled?

It’s true, I grow bitter towards people sometimes, especially the normal “popular” people who are clearly way too good to look at me. But I should just love them and forgive them. The Bible says to love your enemies. So what if my enemies are pretty and charming?

And it’s also true that even more than I could ever hate someone else, I hate myself. Yesterday, I was sitting in a lecture, annoyed by this girl behind me who was having a lively conversation with her friend the whole time. She was a little off-beat, of course, and I wish I could have told her to stop swearing, if only for the reason that it sounded so ridiculous coming from her. I quickly realized that she annoyed me because she reminded me a bit of myself. I do the same thing when I get to know people- I become obnoxious, over zealous, jocose. In high school I used to spend entire class periods talking and joking with this girl, I suppose the most popular of all the people I’ve really come to know. I suppose my behavior screamed out, “I’m so glad you’re talking to me, I’ll do whatever to please you.”

I shake my head now. If only I could treat everyone justly and fairly, and love everyone I come across. That would make all the difference. It says in the good book not to regard the rich greater than the poor.

And yet the world continues to turn round and round, thanks to money and charismatic leaders. Or so we think.


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