Funny story…I think you’ll want to keep reading.
I’ve come to accept that the only thing I’m ever really thinking about is feeding my children. For Vi, it’s easy–pancakes or waffles–hot dog or ham sandwich–throw an outlier in there every once and awhile.
For Luca it’s much more complicated.
How much milk did he drink today versus how much I pumped?
Do we have sweet potatoes? Was it mango or peaches that upset his belly? What time did he eat last? Which side was he nursing on?
Will he need to nurse while we are out and about because if so…I’ll need to dress accordingly.
This is where our story begins.
So, I was at Target this week. All by myself. I was feeling a certain kind of way and had the notion to try on bathing suits.
My bathing suit for this year basically needs to be magical. It’s got to cover the girls, but also provide easy access to them. A flattering suit would be nice, but let’s face it: I don’t really give a shit if it’s not because…well, who cares. I have an infant and I’m constantly hungry. 💣
So while I’m looking for the section with the magical mommy bathing suits–I see these tops. They are longer and flowy. Fun bohemian prints, and the best part of all: they are like a mock wrap with excellent access to the baby feeders (complete with a button to keep them covered when there is no feeding going on).
I’m thinking I’ll get one in every color!
What size should I grab? Well…it’s a top and it looks like they are pretty loose to begin with. I’ll try a Large. I better take an XL too… just for good measure. OMG this is so exciting.
First I try the bathing suits on. I text some selfies to my bestie for input. My spirit isn’t totally crushed. I love Target. I love being at Target with no kids.
Now. The perfect nursing tops. I grab the large first. You know, start small…go bigger if necessary.
Wait–what is this? This isn’t a shirt. It’s got shorts on the bottom, but it’s all one piece.
Now, I know I have no business wearing a romper. Although–the word romper does kind of sound similar to things I can relate to–like roll-y-poll-y. You know what? I’ve always wondered what the romper would look like on me. I’m feeling groovy today. Let’s give it a go.
The shorts part was fine: nothing major to report. I get my left arm in. I immediately notice that it’s not smooth sailing. At this point I *knew* that it was time to abort the mission.
Alas, I forged ahead. My right arm went in. It wasn’t impossible–but it also wasn’t that easy. I look up.
Nope. A Large in this adorable romper is not for me. I’m pretty well stuffed into this thing and it’s totally sabotaged my fitting room experience. This needs to come off, and I need to burn some sage to clear out the negative energy it has created.
I go for the right arm. That’s when it hits me, like a solid sucker punch to the jaw. I can’t take the romper off. I’m effing stuck.
The first three or four minutes were used for planning. How flexible are you, Tori? Maybe try to “think small” and you can be smaller? The force is with me, I am one with the force… No, just bend your arm the same way you did when you put it on. Should be easy.
Not easy. At this point I’m starting to think that the boho romper is actually the newest design for a straight jacket. The fabric is not stretchy at all. It’s very binding. This is why mommies love LuLaRoe. It’s so much better to put clothing on and feel like you’re not wearing any clothing at all–than it is to put the straight jacket boho romper on (and get stuck).
But it’s perfect for nursing, Dammit!
Okay, okay, okay. I am okay. Breath.
Get dressed over top of the romper and get some butter from the dairy section?
Am I going to have to wear the damn thing home, and cut it off? Do I pull the tag and pay for it? F no. That’s a ridiculous waist of money. I guess I’ll have to shop lift. I’ve never done that before. I mean–living on the edge, right? Bon Jovi would be proud. Maybe not though…the consumer who this romper was made for is too young to know about John Bon Jovi. He would think I’m a nut job for trying this. I’m never trying new things, ever again.
Ok, so my options are: shop lift–or sit in this fitting room until I die.
I wonder if my kids miss me? How long will it be until my family files a missing persons report?
I need to go home, but I’m not going down for this. I’m not calling Joe to come bail me out of prison because I got myself stuck in a fashion forward 911.
I think the resolution was somewhat of an out of body experience. I don’t really know how I got out of it.
I was sweaty, and very red. It took what seemed like 5 hours–but was more like 20 minutes. Still–A crazy amount of time to take an article of clothing off. Not sexy at all.
I have but one regret. I should have recorded this experience to share with others. It was hysterical. Truly the funniest pickle I’ve found myself in for a long time. I could have put it to a soundtrack of Chris Farley singing “fat guy in a little coat” and we would have all laughed….and laughed….
Well anyway, if any of you find a nursing friendly flowing shirt that is NOT a romper–let me know!