I Wore A Romper And It Changed My Entire Goddamn Life

RompHim

I wore a romper. Not a romphim. A romper. Romphims are like girl crushes and laws designating who can use certain bathrooms – bullshit. Gender is a myth. Get and stay woke.

Anyway, I wore a romper. And it was the best. Picture this: An average bodied gay man wore a salmon romper on a lovely fall Sunday morning. This is what the Founding Daddies died for. It had pockets. My hands were free to wave at the jealous straights who walked by. I wasn’t weighed down by a bag that could wrinkle this adult, outdoor onesie.

It was soft like cotton. Cause it was made of cotton. Imagine that white undershirt you’re wearing right now. Now imagine it wrapped around your inner thigh. I’ll give you a minute.

The waist wasn’t too snug. That was my greatest fear. It hung nicely on my body like Superman’s cape over Lois Lane. If you have a 30-inch waist (I hate you), you could cinch it with a belt or rope or pieces of the pants you’ll no longer need cause you got the romper you deserve.

My exposed legs were free from their usual denim tube prisons. My knees could truly bend for the first time in years. My limbs could feel the crisp breeze. It comforted me. It let me know the Earth is still spinning. It took my mind away from the inevitable heat death of the universe.

My romper didn’t just provide physical comfort. No, it was much more than that. It was like a thunder shirt that hugged my butt. Walking by a man in a MAGA hat didn’t make me recoil in disgust or lose hope. His fashion only covered his bald spot. It was light and could blow away in the wind. My romper? It was armor covering the most important two-thirds of my body. No amount of gusts would rip it off of me. It’d just cling to me tighter and potentially result in a fine for public indecency.

This one-piece garment is great for every occasion. I don’t have to worry about picking an outfit anymore! The pants and shirt are all there. And in case I need to butch it up, I can throw a leather jacket on. Oh, I’m sorry, your uncle died. Of course, I’ll go to his funeral… in my new black romper with a black blazer.

I saved literally seconds of my life by not having to put on a shirt and pants separately. That bus I took to brunch? I only made it because of those bonus seconds. This has no doubt butterfly affected my entire life. My romper gave me a destiny. TC mark

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Image Credit: RompHim