This week, the collective void into which humanity screams (Twitter) was rocked by a shocking revelation — I’m not talking about Trump or Russia or the possible dissolution of our democracy; I’m talking about the man romper.
Shortly after the “RompHim” campaign was launched on Kickstarter, the internet jumped on the opportunity to make bad puns (RompHim? Mampers? ROMPSCULINITY?), to find the perfect joke/GIF pairing, and to fight about something lighter than our continued existence as a species.
In the midst of romper-mania, Twitter user @KingJerrod_ dipped his toe into the fray by posting: “If you over 170 lbs you don’t belong in a romper.” Before he could place an arbitrary weight-limit on fanny-packs, or Fair Isle sweaters, the viral winds of Twitter had swept up his tweet, and he was being inundated by pictures of women of all shapes and sizes, rocking rompers, looking amazing, and taking flame-throwers to his romper-based body-shaming.
By the time @KingJerrod_ explained that a) he had be referring to MAN rompers, so chill out, ladies, and that b) IT WAS A JOKE DUH IT WAS PERFECTLY CRAFTED HOW DO YOU NOT GET IT, the romper train had left the station, and he was left behind to deal with the deluge of Twitter mentions.
Brb, I've died and gone to salty babe heaven.
Listen, I'm anti-romper. Not because of anything to with weight, but because I have to pee approximately 85 times a day, and sitting on a toilet topless makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. But seeing these women rock them with flair and confidence brought me total, unbridled joy.
Not only did they all look amazing, but as I scrolled through the responses, shivering with delight, I was struck by how refreshing it felt to see women post their weight. Not because weight is indicative of anything — it says nothing about a person's health or lifestyle, and these pictures show how different the same weight can look on different bodies — but because as women, we are told our weight is something we should be ashamed of, a terrible secret that we should reveal to no one except God, our doctor, and our journal (and only then if it has a lock). We are told our weight is powerful, that it determine whether we are beautiful, successful, and attractive. By sharing their weights, these women are taking back that wasted power, flipping off the insecurities society placed on their shoulders, and saying "Thanks but no thanks, I don't need this weird shame. I'm busy looking amazing in a romper, thankyouverymuch."
So go forth, my babes, wear your rompers, your crop-tops, your pleather pants. Wear them and rock them and share your weight or don't, but know that it doesn't matter in the slightest, and you've won where it really counts: Twitter.