Back-to-School, a Cinderella story

Ah, the end of summer is upon us all. Everywhere you look, there are advertisements for "back to school." This year, I am noticing a not-so-subtle emphasis on the idea that you can recreate yourself just by showing up in certain clothes on your first day, or having the right shoes or nail polish or pens. "So what if you felt a bit socially awkward last year? This year you have hot pink skinny jeans, so this year everyone will worship the ground you walk on." I confess, I spent many hours shopping for and agonizing over what I would wear to school the first day. There is a sort of superficial optimism that if you can just get your outward appearance right, people will respect you, maybe even envy you (which, in the girl world, is the ultimate and most sincerest form of flattery). But the hopeful shine of the Cinderella effect only lasts a brief time; usually about a week, until you realize you don't have enough arsenal in your wardrobe to keep up the facade, and it's probably just as well because you're tired of getting up early to to get ready in the morning. Besides, all the cool kids from last year still look cooler than you and not to mention, better rested.

The concept of using your wardrobe as a costume to convince people you are someone you would like to be doesn't lose it's perennial appeal over the years. In fact, by the time one starts college, the fascination with superficially manipulating our image extends past clothing and pencil cases to include dorm furniture, bedding, and mini fridges. And it only gets worse as we get older. Despite the brevity of the delusion, we are so easily convinced that if we can create for ourselves a glittering storefront image, we can somehow change our circumstances in life. I think if this concept worked though, it would quickly lose its mythic power over us. It's the fact that it doesn't work that keeps us coming back to it, year after year, season after season.

So, here I am, facing what will likely be my last personal back-to-school experience. This time next year I will hopefully have my Master's degree in Dietetics, and my Registered Dietitian Nutritionist (RDN) credential. In fact, I will probably be experiencing that even greater image theater, the new job front. This year, instead of trying to manipulate a new image for myself out of clothes and things, I feel like I need to embrace the new identity that's already waiting for me: dietitian, professional, graduate, not to mention, Mom. A few new professional outfits may help me step into these roles better, but for the most part, it's going to be a result of hard work and good time management throughout the year. Spending hours of time amassing a material identity will probably not fit in the schedule. However, this new identity that I am walking into, rather than one I could buy from a store, is sure to last past the stroke of midnight.