Fashion Declares War On Women

The bodysuit is back in style, says fashion. Hell no, says everyone who doesn’t want to have their wardrobes give them yeast infections.

If you graduated from high school between 1998 and 2003, chances are that at one point during your elementary or early middle school career, you owned a child-sized bodysuit that made you feel like just about the coolest pre-teen around. I sure did, but I sure was not cool. In addition to the fact that the bodysuit trend, like all trends, hit rural northwestern Wisconsin about five years after it stopped being cool everywhere else, I’m pretty sure that all photographs of me taken between 1992 and 1993 featured me wincing due to the fact that my shirt was trying to migrate into my butt. The bodysuit is a fundamentally uncomfortable garment, like an all-day leotard. It is ridiculous and should not be trusted or respected. I had an excuse for my wardrobe of snap-crotched shirts because I was in fourth grade and wanted desperately to be cool and older, but now, as an adult woman, I will never surrender to the body suit mafia. I’m taking a stand against ridiculous fashion. Just as I forsake the romper and its clownlike cousin, the maxi romper, I denounce bodysuits and refuse to partake.

Come at me, fashion. Come at me with your stretchy shirt/underwear combinations and your wedgies and your business rompers and your open toed shooties. Even though television and all movies tell me that we’re on an unstoppable march to a future wherein we wear exclusively skintight bodysuits and moon boots or billowy shapeless Snuggie ponchos, I will resist you until my hooded sweatshirts are threadbare.