Fashion?

So now you are probably wondering, when is this chick going to get to the good part? The part about fashion? Well, here goes...
I'll begin by saying that I grew up in a small town. In Indiana. The type of place where fashion is not a priority and maybe even ridiculed. I can't say that I was that girl who dressed like she stepped out of a Vogue editorial and was made fun of. Or that girl who looked cool in her thrift store outfit and was a total outcast. I wore the same kind of crap everyone else did and fit in just fine.
I had access to a mall about 30 miles away that had your typical mall stores. In high school I worshipped Abercrombie and had quite a preppy look. I always cared about what I was wearing and would plan my outfits each evening in preparation for school the next day. These outfits usually consisted of jeans and some kind of sweater or button down.
I read the teen fashion mags like Seventeen and YM (remember that one?), but I didn't get it. I was too busy emulating what my peers were wearing. It was the late 90's and the internet was not what it is today. Imagine a time with no fashion blogs, I shudder at the thought!
While we're on the subject of 90's fashion, I'd like to take a moment to discuss a few of the embarrassing things I wore back then. First, there were tapered jeans. These are not comparable to today's skinny jeans. I'm talking tapered at the ankle and a bit roomy up top. Not flattering. Then there was the flannel shirt/grungy look with some platform off-white lace-up Vans sneakers. Now I know flannels have made a comeback but just picture an oversized brown plaid flannel shirt with the tapered jeans and Vans, yuck! My only accessory was my backpack. Did I even have jewelry? I don't think so, perhaps just my Guess watch. Later came khakis and tops that said "Abercrombie and Fitch" on them. Snooze.
I can recall one of my classmates who most considered stylish. She was the only person in school to get some Doc Marten combat boots. I recall thinking they looked cool, but there was no way I would have worn them. She also shaved the bottom half of her head. A little too edgy for my former fashion self.
My evolution will continue next time...

The next step

  Optometry school wasn't bad. I studied quite a bit and did well in my classes, but I had time to have fun too. It seemed like a good choice and I enjoyed helping others see better. I went on to a residency program where I learned a lot about eye diseases and then I was ready to go out into the "real world."
  I decided to move to Chicago. After spending most of my life either in a small town or a college town, the idea of the big city was thrilling! Plus, I had friends there and it wasn't too far away from my family. Win-win!
  Before I made the big move I got hired by an ophthalmologist. This job was ideal, I would work in private practice right in the Loop! The downside quickly became apparent: I would also have to commute to the burbs a few days a week AND would have to work most Saturdays, bleh.  But, hey, it was (still is?) a recession, I should be happy to have a job, right? I guess that's what I should've thought, but that's not really my style.
  So I went along my way. I found a great apartment in lively Lakeview (neighborhood on the north side of Chicago, includes Wrigleyville) just about 2 blocks from my best friend. She happens to be an amazing interior designer, so it didn't take long for us to paint and decorate my apartment. I had a job, friends, and a home I loved. Life was good :)
 

And so on...

My story continued:

  So there I was, in my junior year of college. I had spent two and a half years preparing for this next step on my path to becoming a doctor. All of a sudden, I didn't want it anymore. I remember breaking the news to my parents, if they were disappointed it certainly didn't show. In fact, I was a bit surprised at how supportive they were. My parents only wanted me to be happy. They even setup a meeting with a hospital administrator after I said that I might want to go in that direction. Turned out, I didn't. 

  I no longer was able to declare with confidence, "I'm going to be a doctor." I actually felt relieved to admit that I had no idea what I was going to do. I was getting to a place where other people's opinions didn't matter as much and I felt at ease. 

  I was talking to my Dad one day and he mentioned that my cousin had been accepted to optometry school. I didn't know much about optometry as I had only had my eyes checked once in my life. It sounded great though: only 4 more years of school and she would be a "doctor." One of the scariest things about med school had been the thought of a good 8 more years of school. That sounded like a prison sentence! I mean, I could handle 4 more years, right?

  I did some research about optometry and then quickly made up my mind. I would go to optometry school! What else was I going to do with a degree in health sciences? I certainly didn't want to be a dentist. Teeth gross me out :) 

  I breezed through the admission test and the interview. My life was figured out again. Or at least I was pretty sure it was...

Hmmmm

  Have you ever woken up and wondered what you were doing with your life? Like, how did I end up here? I can't pinpoint one day in particular, it seemingly happened gradually. This is not a new story. I know I'm not the first person who has gone through something like this. You see, I had had my whole life planned out. I would go to college and then enter medical school. I would become a compassionate and competent doctor, the type patients adored and peers envied.
  The idea was completely logical. I was a straight "A" student in high school and I especially excelled in science and math. I came from a family who valued education, which quickly became one of my values too. I'll never forget proclaiming at the ripe age of 8 that I wanted to be a hairstylist when I grew up. I mean, I loved playing with my dolls' hair, how hard could it be? To this my parents promptly replied, "you'll never make money doing that!" It was at that moment that I knew I had to do something bigger with my life. Something that would make my family proud, something prestigious.
  I idolized doctors. They were so smart and they saved lives. They were respected by the entire community. My uncle was a doctor, my grandmother a nurse. I could see how proud she was to have a doctor for a son. I wanted my parents to be that proud of me. I liked this idea so much, I didn't consider any other options.
  So off I went to start my undergrad degree in premed. It was as though it was set in stone. Along came my junior year when preparation for the MCAT, the med school admission test, crept up on me. I developed a sinking feeling as I started to study. I knew it wasn't nerves as I hadn't had problems with exams in the past. In fact, my grades were excellent, a product of long hours in the library. I just had a nagging feeling that maybe this wasn't the right path for me.
  This feeling forced me to examine my goals. Was this really what I wanted? Was I doing this for the right reason? My gut said no. It was this time in my life where I learned to listen to my gut and make some changes. More on this later...