I see you are all struck mute by the horror of the romper. I don't blame you.
Natter 66: Get Your Kicks.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, pandas, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
I don't even know what a romper is!
And, yes, -t, wonderful to see you here.
I wore a romper in 1987. *shudder*
The romper is an abomination before man and God: here's one. They were big in the 70s and early 80s. Here another.
Things that would be cute as a dress or long shirt become just WRONG when connected to short shorts.
I'd be horrified, but I had one similar to this [link] (more fitted, and no faux collar) that remains one of my favorite items of clothing from my late teens/early 20s.
Rompers are to me what gauchos are to many of you. (And I'm no fan of gauchos.)
ETA: Plei, I'm sure it was cute on you. I'm not trying to disparage romper-lovers. Go romper lovers with your bad selves! The romper, for me, though just...it...just...shudder.
Pix, I know. I've been seeing them on Go Fug Yourself, so I knew it was only a matter of time until they hit the streets. Oy.
I got caught up chatting on OKC. One guy just revealed that he crossdresses at home! Exciting!
Plei, I'm sure it was cute on you. I'm not trying to disparage romper-lovers. Go romper lovers with your bad selves! The romper, for me, though just...it...just...shudder.
I'm not usually a fan! They have to have a very specific 50s rockabilly flair for me to stomach them on anyone over kindergarten! But this was SO rockabilly cute. Not... romperish.
One piece clothing is so impractical, I can't fathom why the idea persists. You have to undress to go to the bathroom! That is a deal breaker for me.
Sorry, Plei... but rompers are just... umm... no good.
Today has been a fucking shithole of a night. We had to change Grace's trach (her doc says change it each week, they did it every month in the facility and we don't have enough trachs to do it each week. Moreover I age a few years each time we have to change it) which went fine but then while we were out at dinner with my mom, Grace pulls out her g-tube. Which she had been scratching at. Suddenly, there it was in her hand.
We rush out to the car to put it back in and I drop it on the ground (sterile stuff and me are unmixy). we get it in, but I'm not sure how much it is inflated.
We get home and replace the g-tube completely only to realize the old one had a hole in the balloon.
I don't know that I can do this for the rest of my life. I also know I don't have a choice.