“You’re not you. Is there some kind of conspiracygoing on around here today?”
-Prof. Dale Law
The task is not to remain pretty. No, one does not have to resort looking like a snotty beggar at the sidewalks. Let’s just say that wearing grandma’s moth-infested night gown is enough. This post is long overdue, but the Opposite Day we have last November 19, somehow, has created a bit of stir in the campus. So I guess it’s worth talking about it here right now. (It doesn’t mean opposite that when you’re wearing jeans yesterday you have to wear a skirt the next morning).
The rule is this: Don on something that’s completely opposite of what’s usually worn. If you’re a tight, traditionalist woman of the 70s flair, you must go avant-garde. If you’re a sporty guy, then you must be preppy in plaids, eyeglass and all. That’s basically what the Opposite Day is all about.
The idea came up when I and my crony for absurdity, June Rivera, had an ukay-ukay adventure in one of the many secret spots in Dumaguete. When she was busy comparing two dresses, I asked her “What if we’ll wear, for one day, something that we don’t usually wear? You know, kanang weird jud kayo para nato bah. Gets?” Now completely forgetting her dress dilemma, she lit up and smiled a silly smile (believe me, it looked silly). The rest was history.
For someone who believe that good looks is a daily necessity but should require ample grounding on the brains department to back it up with, I never go out of the house with a little crease on my clothes. And because of this, I am assigned to transform into a tambay. Many have said it’s not that much, especially that some of my colleagues have taken the extra mile to become America Ferrera’s Betty, a pirate, and a crossbreed between McDonald and his dedicated waiter. I couldn’t blame them.
But with all honesty, it was tough receiving the stares when you know you don’t deserve it. Yet it felt liberating to break away from the common, the regular that remain stuck in many people’s minds, really.
Friends, more pictures here.
We’re not a normal bunch, this year’s Weekly Sillimanian staff, and it feels good to belong to it. Though not all of us participated in our madness, we had fun. And as a response to my literature professor, yes, there’s a conspiracy going on, but it’s seriously not about an urgent call for a uniform policy. Bullfrogs, no.