The Unofficial Auntie Uniform

There was a very specific moment in my adult life when I realized I was done performing. The world reopened the gates of fashion and said, “Hey girlie, bike shorts and big tees are back.” And I said, “Finally, a trend for the emotionally exhausted.” I grabbed onto that look like it was a life raft. I built myself a little collection of oversized tees in the exact same color family - because once you discover the tone that hides toddler fingerprints, mystery stains, and your own titty sweat? You commit.

Leggings had carried me for years. Respectfully, they did their time. But the first day I pulled on a pair of bike shorts? Something in me snapped and reconnected with buttery soft spandex. Cozy. Secure. It was like my thighs finally exhaled.

I used to talk shit. Loudly. “I’d NEVER wear Crocs.” I said that with my full chest. Now I own nothing but Crocs and Chucks. Don’t ask me what happened. Style? Evolution? A crisis? Whatever. My favorites are the platforms because I’m five feet tall on a generous day and my husband is 6’1”. If I don’t level up, the man is gonna have back problems from bending down to kiss me.

But the real change came the day I admitted I would rather be comfortable than… whatever the hell I was trying to be before. I found the outfit that actually works for my body and my life. So I bought more. Many more. Possibly too many, but also not enough. At some point, I realized I’d low key created a uniform. A rotation of pieces that fit, feel right, and never betray me. No more standing in the closet, spiraling, because something that fit last week is now disrespecting me publicly. No surprises.