The most surprising thing of my Lent experience is realizing how narcissistic I had been. I wouldn’t wear the same shirt within ten days because I was worried someone would notice. We just passed the 5th Sunday in Lent, and no one has yet acknowledge that I’ve been wearing black v-neck Tshirts every single day. Considering my school can often feel like a fashion competition, it is incredibly freeing to know with the certainty of knowledge that comes from lived experience: no one notices, or at least, no one cares.
Although, I’ll admit it: I’m ready to be wearing color again, to be able to play through style. Originally I thought that on Sundays (or “Feast Days” as Keller and I have taken to calling them) I would wear only white or gray. This Feast Day I wore a blue dip-dyed skirt with a green T to church, and then changed into neon pink jeans, a chambray shirt, and a multi-color necklace. I may have diverged from the plan a little bit.
Which is good. Part of the season of Lent is about building anticipation, about looking forward. And I’m doing that. Not obsessively, but it will be nice to have color in my life again. The metaphor feels appropriate.