dirty little secret

In order to drown out the sound of boys playing something noisy on PS3, I'm watching What Not To Wear. I hope I never see myself on their secret footage. Ever. That footage would reveal my dirty little secret.

I wear sweats way too much, which is something I've only taken up in the last couple of years. I was never going to be that stay at home mom. You know the one...wearing ratty, unwashed sweats when dropping the kids at school. The sweats accompanied by an oversized t-shirt advertising something, uncombed hair in a ponytail, baby spit-up on her shoulder, no makeup. I realize that is a huge generalization, but at the same time, every mom knows another mom like that.

There was a few times that I took kids to school while wearing my pajamas, but I always wore a hat to hide my bedhead, and I didn't get out of the car. All the rest of the time I was fully dressed. It didn't have to be in something special (jeans and a t-shirt was the usual combo), but it had to be clean, and it had to fit properly. I don't do oversize. Even if my hair was pulled back in a ponytail, it was a neat combed ponytail.

A few years ago I started putting on my pajamas a couple of hours before bed instead of 5 minutes before I dove under the covers. That same year I coached my then 5 year old's soccer team, so I bought a pair of sweats. I only wore them to practice and games on the days it was too cold for shorts.

For a couple of years, I held steady. Sweats only when I was doing major housework or some form of exercise and pajamas as soon as it got dark. If I left the house for anything other than a hike, it was fully dressed in real clothes.

Then my downfall hit. Kayle started working at a store that sells nothing but athletic clothing. Even worse, as an immediate family member, I can use her discount. Now I have sweats for nearly every occaision except a wedding. I have lightweights for summer and heavyweights for winter. I have several pairs of yoga pants, although I'm not dumb enough to think I have the coordination for yoga. I have base layers and outer layers and running pants with ankle zippers and pants in the middle of the butt (ipod holder?). I have shirts with special armpit venting. I have a running jacket with weird pockets in the ends of the sleeves to keep my hands warm. I have flat sneakers and sneakers with special soles and several pairs in between. I have a closet full of sweatshirts. Kayle and I wear the same size, so I also have access to the thousand pairs of sweats spilling out of her closet.

I started wearing sweats in public. I always made sure that the sweats, shirts, jackets, and sneakers were in good repair and coordinated. Wearing sweats meant that I really didn't even have to change into pajamas as soon as the sun went down. Lots of people sleep in sweats, right? Somehow ratty hoodies started making their way into my wardrobe. Even when I buy them brand new, they look bad after the first wash (I'm looking at you WSU hoodie that I bought in August). That's when I realized I had a problem.

When school started this year, I went back to wearing real clothes everyday, although I kept the pajamas at dark rule, because I can't live without my flannel. I did really good for a few months, but December brought frigid weather and I had to go back to sweats because those can be layered. I tried really hard to still make sure I was wearing real clothes if I had to go anywhere, but about once a week, I'd run errands in sweats.

Of course, it's the sweats days where I see people I know. I hadn't seen Shannon in ages, and then saw her I think 3 times in a few weeks, and each time I was in sweats. In my defense, one of those times was at Fleet Feet and wearing sweats in a running store is perfectly acceptable. Then yesterday in ratty sweats, pilly hoodie, and water spotted fuzzy boots (yes, with sweats!), I ran into someone I used to work with. She looked all cute and put together. I had no makeup and messy hair.

(I should add something about the hair. I have got to do something with it. I know it's time, because if I'm at home it's knotted up on the top of my head with bobby pins keeping the strays out of my face. That means that any day I'll have a hormonal fit and demand that my stylist chop it off. I'll love it for awhile, and then I'll realize that I have to do something to it besides wash it, and I'll cry over my lost hair freedom.)

Now I have to go back to wearing real clothes, because another downward spiral could put me on people of walmart.