Stop Wearing "Cover Clothes"

“I like comfy clothes.”

Ok, so what. I do. 

At 22 I dated a boyfriend who didn’t want me to get into my “comfy clothes.” In fact, he requested that I not be in sweats when he came over at 9:00 p.m. 

Point taken.

Perhaps I can get some sympathy for the fact that I was working an often 3:00 a.m. shift and coming over at 9:00 p.m. was like waking me up. 

When I met my current boyfriend I asked him to never tell me not to wear my comfy clothes. (Maybe that’s why he called me a frump.) It’s about time I give boyfriend a name. His name is Nathan. 

Here’s the thing, being comfortable is not about the design of your clothes. It is not about whether or not they are flannel pajamas (like I happen to be wearing right now) or a work out suit. It’s about whether or not you, and in this case I, feel comfortable with what I’m wearing at all.

“Comfy clothes” as I called them, and still do, and as he (my main man) would sometimes mock me, could in fact be called cover clothes. They cover up everything about yourself that you don’t like, whether it’s the love handles, the pudgy stomach, the skinny legs, the fat ankles, or whatever it is. 

One of the reasons for the frumpy state is that I didn’t like what I felt like and if I didn’t like it, no one else would like it either. That’s even if I knew my boyfriend liked my “sexy legs” as he still calls them. 

Once you realize that the man (or woman, or person) in your life loves you for you and likes things about yourself that you may not like, you get out of your comfy clothes. What do you do?

I have some suggestions, depending on what your frumpiness is:

Go to the gym. 

Eat a well-balanced diet.

Find a friend, and see if you can help each other through your frumpiness. 

Choose health, and choose not to care about the rest. 

So, get out of your cover clothes. Allow yourself to be comfortable. Show some leg. 

Guess what? I like wearing skirts. 

Come on, Get the Frump Out of Your Rump

“Stop being a frump.”

No one who is internally trying to be a better person wants to be called a frump. Especially not by the person they are in love with and imagine building a life with.

“You’re such a frump.”

Ouch. 

Ok, so at first I thought it was a joke. Then, it was said again, and again, and again. 

When I met my boyfriend of five and a half years* I weighed about 114 lbs. By the time he started to call me a frump I was approaching 130. It’s not a significant amount of weight, but with my height just below 5’2”, it was definitely noticeable.

Do you know what happens when you realize you can’t fit into your skinny jeans anymore? Or, you can’t zip up your hot black dress you bought for the “just because” reason. It stinks. It hurts. I mean, it really hurts because the zipper kind of pinches your skin as you try to force the dress to close on your back. 

Gaining weight made me unhappy with myself. I felt unattractive. If I felt unattractive, I became unattractive. Gretchen Rubin teaches us to “Act the Way I Want To Feel.” Inspired partly by her, we can do this together, and eventually feel and be the way we want. My friend and former colleague, Elyse Miller, gave me some of the tools I needed to take back myself. 

Together, this journey that I’m taking you on is about getting rid of the frump, whether it’s extra weight that makes you feel unattractive, weight you need to gain because you feel too skinny, or an attitude within you that you don’t know how to get out of.

Come on, Get the Frump Out of Your Rump. 



UPDATED DECEMBER 23, 2010
*Noted Boyfriend is now ex-boyfriend