Sweat Suits

From pre-school until 7th grade, I was the man in black. I was horrified by the idea of jeans; I couldn’t even do a sit up in gym class without keeping the studs on my back pockets from digging into my rear! It was all about functionality for me. I could pull on a black sweat shirt and sweat pants every morning and not worry about dirt or crumbs showing up, and I didn’t even have to change for gym class. They were convenient and most of all, they were me. I was comfortable and happy in my cotton-based slice of heaven. I was defined by black; there was nothing my parents could say or do that would make me change. I knew it couldn’t last forever, but I also knew that change had to come from me.

I never really realized it, but just the idea of wearing my black counterpart day after day was holding me back.

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As long as my wardrobe was always the same, no other aspect of my personality had to change either. I continued my life in oblivious ignorance, playing video games and not doing much else. I never stepped out of my shell or made any attempt to become a contributing member of my community.

I knew it couldn’t always be so easy, though. As I grew up and went to middle school, my loyalty to everything cotton wasn’t always so acceptable. I started getting looks from my classmates (most importantly the girls) and teachers, often wondering why I refused to dress myself like a self-respecting individual. I knew it was time to change and become the person I wanted to be. I didn’t do it because my parents told me to, because my friends made fun of me, or because I wanted the respect of othersaˆ”I did it for myself.

In fact, it really wasn’t just about looking better or dressing more fashionably. I wanted to completely overhaul my life; make more friends, be more involved in the community, and start living up to the academic potential I knew I was capable of. This was about becoming a better person, not just looking like a better person. I couldn’t respect myself knowing what I could be.

Moving on, I joined the ranks of high school freshmen, taking a huge step (at least for me) in becoming a more mature individual. Now, I could wear mostly all the colors of the rainbow (except yellow, but really, who likes yellow). I joined the IB diploma program and signed up for soccer, lacrosse, rowing, skiing and the math team among other things. Along with my more colorful wardrobe, I dove into the realm of foreignness that is high school; embracing everything that was new.

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One day in the fall of my junior year, my childhood jumped back at me. While scrounging through my closet looking for clothes to donate, my mom came across a stuffed, industrial size garbage bag. “Taylor, what are these?” she asked.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. “My sweat suits!” I exclaimed. Although old and unwashed, my sweat pants were exactly as I had left them.

As I tenderly examined them, I realized how far I had come. While I have been subject to more difficult academic challenges, strenuous athletic activities and trying social relationships, I am still the same 8 year old smitten by the comfort and functionality of the black sweat suit. The foundation of my character has remained constant since my sweat suit childhood, but I have become a much more diverse and complete individual with something to contribute to society. Although my days of sweat pant bliss were cut short, I am ever appreciative for the growth that they forced me to accept. For this color-wearing 18 year old, black isn’t enough anymore; I’m ready to put on some Big Red.