Everyone Was Just Buying Groceries

Maybe it was the heat wave that tore through the East Coast over the 4th of July weekend. Triple-digit temperatures. Humidity that made me question every article of clothing I owned. I wanted to wear as little clothing as possible.

So I kept reaching for a new favorite in my closet: a romper.

Everything about this romper would have made me cringe just a few months ago.

Built-in shorts (I hate shorts). A built-in bra (designed for women with considerably smaller boobs than mine). Athleisure fabric (I had a weird hesitation about the whole athleisure movement). I looked like I was about to go play tennis.

I never play tennis.

But damn if it isn’t comfortable.

It was so comfortable that I wore one three out of the four days of the holiday weekend. (Not on the Fourth, of course. All my rompers are black, and I can't possibly wear anything other than red, white, and blue on Independence Day.)

How did I end up with multiple black athleisure-style rompers (or, as Target calls them, “Athletic Dresses”) in my closet?

I’m a sucker for a deal. And a few weeks ago, Target had these beauties on sale for 40% off.

It’s amazing how much easier it is to take a chance on something you’re convinced isn’t for you when it’s 40% off.

I bought one in black and tried it on, fully expecting to hate it.

It looks like a mini dress. My thighs—which I’ve always had a complicated relationship with—were on full display. I have a rather ample behind, which means the skirt just barely covers the shorts.

And that built-in bra? Surprisingly comfortable. A little low-cut, but the racerback tank gave me enough support.

Once I threw away the pesky little bra pad inserts, it was honestly pretty great.

“This will be perfect to wear around the house,” I said to my reflection.

Which, in retrospect, was my way of saying: I like it. I just don’t think I’m allowed to wear it in public.

The first day I wore it around the house, my husband gave me a playful smack on the bottom and said I should wear short skirts more often.

Then my 10-year-old looked me up and down.

“This,” she said. “I like this. Can I have one in my size?”

Then I wore it out in public. Nothing glamorous. Just a quick trip to the grocery store. But before I even left the house, I’d already imagined all the objections.

Too short.

Too tight.

Too busty.

Too much thigh.

Too much of me, honestly.

But here’s the weird thing: absolutely nothing happened.

No one made any rude or crude comments. No one informed me that I’d violated the Official Romper Rules for 41-year-old women with thighs and boobs.

Because, of course, there are no Official Romper Rules.

There were only the ones I’d made up.

And I was the one enforcing them.

Everyone else was just buying groceries.

And honestly, there were probably a half dozen women in similar outfits, so I blended in more than I stood out.

And just like that, this black romper became my unofficial summer uniform.

I ordered two more. Still black (I’m not brave enough for a baby pink romper... yet), but with slightly different silhouettes.

They’re definitely not work-appropriate, so you won’t see me wearing one to the office. But for running errands, visiting friends, or picking up my daughter from sleepaway camp? Perfect. She kept talking about how much she liked it, so when they went on sale again, I bought her a few, too.

She wears a size XXS, and I wear a size Large.

She wanted the baby pink one, of course.

But she also wanted the black racerback so we could be “twinsies.”

It made me laugh.

Not that long ago, I would have rolled my eyes at the idea of matching outfits with my 10-year-old. Rompers were for girls her age, not women mine.

Turns out that was just another rule I’d made up.

Funny thing about imaginary rules: they feel just as real as actual ones... right up until you ignore them.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a black romper to wear.