I’ve burned time, burned money and burned a few dinners.
But I never enjoyed anything more than burning the gym suit I wore from seventh grade through my senior year in high school.
As the school year started for seventh graders, we were all required to purchase a gym suit and advised to buy one a couple of sizes too large so we could grow into them. The standard gym suits of the day were not fashionable, nor were they flattering. They came in one style and one color—one piece, short-sleeve, navy blue with an elasticized waist and silver snaps up the front. So, we rolled up the legs and sleeves and hiked up our collective waists. When we hit the court in our standard white sneakers, white ankle socks and the two-sizes-too-big suits, we must have been a sight to behold.
Phys ed class, to me, was about as attractive as that suit. I was an undersized with no talent and no interest in sports of any type. I was a nerdy kid, happiest with my face in a book somewhere. If it wouldn’t be for my good friend Peg, I would have been the last one picked for intramurals. (Yes. We really did do that. There was always some poor soul left standing.) But Peg was a jock, a standout on the girls’ basketball team, who’d take pity on me and pick me for her team. (Thank you Peg and all your offspring.)
As time went on, some of the lucky girls were able to get new suits, ones that actually fit. But, most of my friends, like me, came from families where an extra gym suit wasn’t seen as a necessity, so we soldiered on with those ugly suits that none of us ever did grow into.
Needless to say, one of the happiest days of my teenage life was the day I was able to take that baggy, size 10, ugly, hated rag along with the household trash to our outdoor fireplace for ceremonial disposal. Having strategically chosen a college without a phys ed requirement, I had no need for a gym suit ever again. I lit a match to that monstrosity and watched with satisfaction as it ignited as quickly as tissue paper and with it five years of self-conscious, embarrassing ugly was forever gone, gone, gone.
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