When I was in 8th grade, they had a "career day" at my middle school, where students were invited to come dressed up as the profession that they aspired to. At North Sanpete Middle School, this meant there were a lot of people dressed in overalls (farmers or mechanics) or in belt buckles (bull riders) or in scrubs, which was by far the coolest thing to come dressed in. There were a few teachers and a mightly number of ambitious 6th Spice Girls or solo country singers. Enter me, wearing knee boots, breeches, a hunt coat and a number pinned to my back. It might as well have been a target on my back at that school, but I was not, nor would I ever be a victim of Ophelia Syndrome , and never resorted to anyone making me a sheep (real sheep in sanpete=good thing, 7th graders as sheep= bad thing) and wore my abhorrently tight grey pants with pride. For about an hour. Then I sort of wished that career day would become "moroni turkey plant blew the town c...