About five years ago big, baggy clothes was the style back in junior high school, and also when I started school. From the jeans being four sizes too big, falling off your bottom, to the 4x t-shirts that came down to your knees, everyone had baggy clothes, except for me. My grandmother always wanted me to look presentable and not like some hoodlum that just came off the streets, and since I was just learning how to take care of myself, she was the one that bought everything that I wore. I didn’t have any say to what I wanted to look like, and from then it was instilled in my mind that she wanted to make my life the biggest fashion statement that school year.
Now back then you were the man when your clothes were sagging because, you felt older, girls liked big clothes for some reason, and for some reason parents hated it, which made it more fun to do, but my grandmother didn’t take to kindly to that. I can remember one warm day at recess other classmates and I were playing football in the schoolyard. I had on my favorite black tee shirt. It wasn’t the best looking shirt, but it was the best in my eyes, and on that day as I went for the long touchdown pass and completed the play, Sherri Crowe, one of the strongest girls in my class lunged directly towards ripping my left sleeve off.
Now in my school you had to come looking presentable for a healthy educational experience, and if not your parents were called to make sure that happened. So when my teacher seen my torn sleeve she immediately sent me to the principal office. Now it wasn’t like I did anything wrong, but they weren’t too fond off my appearance and called my grandmother to bring another change of shirt. As I sat in the office and twiddle my fingers waiting for my grandmother to arrive, I quickly spot her entering through the door with a disturbing shrunk t-shirt. Now back then if you were caught wearing tight clothed you would be called all sorts of rude hurtful things like...
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