Rebel of the uniform wars.

So, I hear you wondering, what's it like being a nerd?

Well, quite wonderful actually. You get to marvel at the beautiful intricacies of the structure of DNA, and look glamorous in a white labcoat with dubious stains thereupon. Not to mention the safety glasses. Have you seen the safety glasses? There is a new range I like to call the "J lo" , which make you look like J lo if she was in a comic strip about soldering. I feel like I never left school, having to wear the scientific "uniform" and all.

Actually at school, while I was a nerd, I was also something of a rebel. Oh yes, you heard me. I like to think of myself as the quiet rebel. I was not smoking doob in the bathrooms or swigging peach schnapps out of those horrendous juice bottles or bunking class to see a BOY. But when it came to school uniform rules  I was a naughty naughty girl. 

To be honest, this was partly rebellion, and partly the fact that I am a dazed, confused loskop  who just was not able to follow said rules.

We had a name badge and a school emblem badge which we were required to wear at all times. I lost both pesky items on a weekly basis and became adept at "strategically scratching my neck" whenever I passed a prefect, to hide my lack of very important tagging device [school=live Facebook]. 

Don't mention bloody hymnbooks to me. No hymnbook = detention, so I kept a single, mutilated scrap of paper, with half a measly hymn thereupon, to wave at prefects, and hope that they didn't notice the lack of the rest of the thing. Yes, I went to school when most SA government schools were Christian by default. I am THAT old.

Then there was the colour coding. Must have correct colour hairbands, clips, and UNDERWEAR. My biology teacher did manage to freak me out beyond all comprehension by saying to a girl one day, "you are not allowed to wear that colour underwear." Ok, freakcity.

The hairdying rule amused me. You were allowed to dye your hair so long as there was no observable change in colour. Riiiiiight. What. is. the. point. then? And no nail polish, including your toenails. Like, how would they know? Damn P.E., that's how. I was in the stage of wearing a different colour on each toe and got rather told off. I was symbolically celebrating the rainbow nation, m'kay?

I could go on forever. The worst part of all this was that in Matric my so called friends all became prefects and started nailing me for things I had been getting away with for years.

Thinking back on those times makes me feel positively bad. I was one step away from black leather, hoofing illicit powders and tattoos (oops, got one of those. Is a cartoon turtle named Norm considered rebellious?)