R.I.P.

A beloved member of the Nielson household was laid to rest this week. It was an emotional moment for me. I bit back the tears and tried not to sniffle as I said my final goodbye.

"So long, Track Suit."

Yes, my signature PJs/exercise/knock around the house (okay, I went everywhere in it) outfit is now at the bottom of the Good Will box. I feel so heartless admitting that. But it was time for Track Suit to be put out of his misery.

Friends and family know my track suit well. The matching pants and zip-up hoodie were a gift to me--from Ryan, actually--on my 21st birthday. And in the almost five years since, I have been seen wearing little else. I mean, of course I convince myself to change my clothes for work every day; but the minute that I get home, the nylons and heels come off, and the track suit goes back on.

I would like to point out that a matching track suit isn't the most fashionable choice to begin with; but add to that the fact that, over the years, the track suit has gotten smaller and shorter (due to countless turns in the dryer), and I have gotten wider and rounder (due to countless turns in the Dunkin' Donuts line)--and then you can picture how lovely I looked in that polyester beauty.

I once asked Ryan if I could wear my track suit to a birthday party thrown by our friends. He said only if I wanted to be "disrespectful." I wasn't totally sure what that meant, especially since the party was for a one-year-old...but I wore the track suit anyway. I hope little Taylor Dayton didn't feel disrespected by it.

So why did I decide to discontinue use of my trusty "uniform?" Well, last week, I was embarrassing myself in a Buns-N-Thighs class at the gym. I couldn't figure out the steps; I was a count behind everyone else; and I fell down (yes, like, on the ground) at one point. As I got back to my feet, red faced and sore, I caught a glimpse of something laughable in the full wall of mirrors across from me:

In the midst of spandex-clad, tight-bodied dancer girls, there stood a young woman wearing short, snug, stained workout pants and a matching zip-up hoodie.

It was me.

Humiliated, I tore off the hoodie, but underneath, I was wearing a

t-shirt with a smiling gumball machine on it. This did nothing to improve my image.

Call me shallow; call me a fairweather friend; but Track Suit had to go. I am now too cool--and too chubby--to wear him.

R.I.P.

Track Suit

May 31, 2005-December 10, 2009

Pictured here in May 2008...believe it or not, the track suit was even more motley, short, and dorky a year and a half later...time to say goodbye!