First off, I absolutely refuse to have my summary include the generic phrase: "A story about [blank], [something annoyingly hipstery like sculpted beards] and learning to dance in the rain." Because this story is not generic. In fact, it's not even...
So, today was supposedly meant to be the best week of my life at university: Freshers' Week. I was up bright and early at 9 AM. Nothing could be missed out on. There was a lot to do, including getting my student ID, register and check out the all-important Freshers' Fair, where I could have a look at every single society and sports team that Manchester Metropolitan University had to offer me.
I looked out of my window to see what the weather might have in store for me. Feeling optimistic after looking at a blue sky with occasional white clouds, I decided to settle with a pair of high-waisted jeans and a white vest top. The North is seriously cold, but this was a strategic move. Freshers' Fair was basically an opportunity to collect dozens of free t-shirts, pens, food and whatever the hell else you could get your hands on. There was no point in me putting on a t-shirt when I'd only want to change it shortly after arriving!
I picked my pink Reebok trainers to complete the outfit, lace them up and grab my small, white leather backpack. Not feeling particularly hungry, I go to the kitchen and get a Nature Valley bar, taking it with me. I lock up my bedroom and front door, then set off to get the day going.
. . .
The MMU campus was approximately a 15-minute walk away. Not too bad at all! First off was registration in the main building.
I followed the signs to where the queue started, and when I reached the front I was greeted by one of the registration staff. "Hiya pet, can I just see your acceptance letter and some proof of ID?" I dig around in my purse for the letter that came through in the post. I hand it over to her, along with my provisional driver's licence. She scanned over them both and gave them back when she was happy. "Thanks for that, now we just need to take your picture, and it'll be printed onto your card straight away! Just face the camera and smile."
It was at this point that I realised I had put minimal effort into getting ready. I wasn't wearing makeup, my hair was just flat as fuck, and my eyes were tired from the traumatising sounds keeping me up last night. I looked into the camera with a sort of blank expression, only noticing after the "snap!" sound that my picture had very swiftly been taken. My eyes widened and I slammed my hands down onto the desk. "Wait, wait! Can I see it? That was bad, I need a do-over." I exclaimed, drawing the attention of other people in the queue.
"I'm sorry, we have thousands of students to process. Unfortunately, I can't retake the photo," the lady said. I feel like she was pretty sincere, as I clocked her eyebrows raising soon after the picture was taken. A beeping sound was made by the machine, and she removed the printed ID card, handing it over. "It's...really not that bad." She was trying to console me but failing miserably after I hesitantly glanced at it.
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I mumbled a "thanks," then dragged myself away so the next student could have their picture taken. Now at the side of the queue, I raise the card again and grimace as I further examine. 'Why did I have to look bad today?' my brain asks in rage. "Ugh! Stupid fucking photo."
