There are two types of people in this world…those who dress up for football games and those who do not. I think there’s a pretty good mix of both types of people at most games. I hear some schools have a certain dress code tradition and so the numbers my be a little skewed in those areas, but for the most part I think it’s a good blend.
I, for one, am not a dress up person…but that’s not how I started out. My freshman year of college I wasn’t sure what you were supposed to wear to a college football game. I wore a cheerleading uniform to every football game I had ever been to since I was 4. So I had never had to decide what I thought was the most appropriate apparel for a game. Once faced with that decision I realized what a difficult one it was. All the girls walking around in their cute black and red dresses with their cute red heels looked so…cute. I wanted to be cute too! So I went that route…I dressed up for the games. I had not yet built up my artillery of red and black clothing so there weren’t many options anyway. For the most part I was happy with who I was as a dresser upper. Yes, it was hot as hades and yes I was sweating my cute little ace off, but maybe my style would outshine the sweat.
That all changed on one fateful night. It was my sophomore year of college…I think…maybe my junior year…I don’t know. We were in Jacksonville for the GA FL game. I had gone out and bought new clothes especially for this game. I had some cute black pants with a cute red shirt. For shoes I brought along my black boots that had a pretty decent heel on them. Nothing too fancy. The day of the game arrived and everything started out fine. We walked around and met up with some more friends. We got everyone successfully into the same section in the stadium. I managed not to eat it during the game on those temporary bleachers they put up that sway back and forth. All was well (except for the fact that we lost…but we aren’t going to talk about that). When it came time to leave we filed out of the stadium, told some punk gator fans that they were still punks who wore jean shorts, and started our walk back to the hotel. At this point I had been on my feet for about 8 hours and I was starting to feel the burn. We had a pretty good hike back to the place where we were staying and about one minute into it I decided that I couldn’t handle those dang shoes anymore! But don’t worry I didn’t take them off…I just whined and complained about how my feet were hurting the entire walk back. And they really did hurt…bad. I’ve never had such pain in my feet. And I’m pretty sure my friends have never wanted to punch me in the face more.
We finally made it back and right then and there I decided that I would no longer be a dresser upper. No amount of cuteness was worth this pain. I don’t care what I looked like I would never again wear any kind of a heel to a football game.
Cut to present day. I’ve kept my promise. I haven’t worn anything other than a flip flop or tennis shoe to a football game since that day. Don’t get me wrong I still try to dress cute, but there is a line. If I come to a point (and it happens every so often) where I have to make a choice between cuteness and comfort…I go with comfort every time. I have put my dresser upper days behind me and I will forever be a dresser downer.
So, what kinda person are ya?
