I love my mother. Truly I do. But, fashionable and her do not go together in the same sentence. Therefore in those precious formative years I was oft found in ratty, torn up sweats and wait for it...windbreaker pants. Yes those horribly annoying pants that gave you a swishy theme song whenever you took a step, and came in colors that shouted "LOOK AT ME" in case the swishing wasn't bringing enough attention the wearer. Sadly, I owned a pair very similar to the ones pictured below. (Minus the paw print and with stripes on the side.)
That was my t-shirt & jeans phase. Until this point, jeans were a novelty amongst the piles upon piles of sweats and swishy pants. Now that I had more access to them- I went mad with a fervor for denim. Jeans to school, jeans to church, jeans to parties. Wherever I could wear them I would. I owned one skirt; exclusively for special occasions like going to grandma's house. I had enough t-shirts to clothe the children of the world. T-shirts from tennis tournaments, summer camps, and school functions; you name it- I had it on a t-shirt. Think Mount Kilimanjaro with t-shirts...that was my middle dresser drawer. Mom gets a break on this one, I think the t-shirt love came from the other side of the family. Let's not even get into how many he owns... I still have quite a few but now they've been delegated to gym clothes and sleepwear. Grooming head-wise was usually optional in the mornings. I wore my hair in loose buns and liked my glasses frames emo.