I take about half an hour to get ready every morning. Sure, most of that time is spent finishing seminar reflections and yelling at my cat Bernard to stop eating the plants, but it’s an obscene amount of time that could be spent sleeping in, getting ahead on readings, or eating breakfast at the table rather than in class like an animal.
There are only a couple times a year when I forgo the laborious process of putting on a bra and smacking a bunch of glitter on my face. I lovingly refer to these times as ugly studying moments.
Such moments come twice a semester — during midterms and during finals. When you have a million and one things to do and stress accounts for 70 per cent of your body weight, being pretty is simply not an option. And while it may be difficult to force yourself out the door in the morning when you look like a grubby, oily little rug-rat, there is something immensely satisfying about crawling onto campus in Bluenotes sweatpants you bought a decade ago and the same T-shirt you slept in.
As women, we’re told we have be pretty and presentable all the time. Ugly studying is an opportunity to say “fuck you” to that harmful mentality and focus on our academic success above all else.
I’m now entering my final year at the U of A. My boyfriend is doing co-op in Toronto this semester, and there’s no one else on this campus who I feel inclined to impress. Really, I have no reason not to make every day an ugly study day.