Thursday, 4 November 2010

The joy of a onesie

I should explain before I proceed any further that I have a bit of a "thing" for nightwear, and in particular pyjamas.  I am one of those people who, particularly in winter, spends the last hour of work fantasising about getting home and changing into a nice, comfy pair of PJs.  I often wear one pair of pyjamas around the house on an evening and then a different item of nightwear to bed that night, just to ensure that the comfort and temperature is appropriate to the situation - after all, you would get all sweaty wearing fleece pyjamas in bed all night, but they're lovely and cosy to laze around in on the sofa watching TV.  I have not yet reached the same level of dedication as some of my fellow Belfast women however, as I do not tend to wear my PJs out to the shops (except for that one time with the girlie sleepover and the vodka, but in that instance I was both egged on incorrigibly and also accompanied by fellow pyjama-wearers).  It is safe to say though that I do love my jammies!

It is in this spirit that, a few months ago, I was wandering through Primark in Belfast City Centre and perusing their nightwear selection.  I may not have been planning to actually buy anything but I do like to stay au courant with the latest nightwear fashiosn.  And then I saw them... hung high on a rack in a corner on the first floor.  Was that... a onesie..?  It was!  It was a freaking onesie!

I had been hankering after a onesie since JD from Scrubs awakened me to the possibility that a onesie could actually be made in adult sizes:

However no nightwear manufacturers seemed to cotton on to said ingenuity at the time and so my dreams of owning a onesie faded and I instead moved on to satin pyjamas.

But flash forward a few years and suddenly there they were in front of me, coaxing me over to their corner, seducing me with their fleecey material and convenient front zips.  At the time I had no money to spare and so departed without my objet du désir, although its presence remained on my mind.  A few weeks later I took my sister into Primark and showed her the beloved onesie.  She merely shook her head and clearly pitied her poor halfwit sibling, but yet my onesiephilia continued in earnest, even though my family and friends all deemed the onesie "sad".  I still wanted one even after seeing numerous hen and stag parties wear them during a recent trip to Blackpool and trust me, some of those images were far from pleasant.

Through lack of funds and threats from my nearest and dearest to disown me should I make the purchase, I had given up on onesie ownership.  However this evening I was once again wandering through Primark when what should I spy but a new range of onesies!  And these ones were even cuter!  There was even one with a black body, yellow and black striped arms and a little embroidered bee on the chest... you would look like a giant bee and would only need a pair of deely-boppers to complete the look!  Awesome.

In the end my resolve weakened... I had resisted long enough.  The onesie and I deserved to be together.  And so I purchased one.  For £8.00.  A bundle of fleecey goodness at a bargain price.  I am now sitting on my sofa in a onesie with a baby pink body, zebra print sleeves and a cute little embroidered zebra on the chest.  I feel so incredibly comfortable and warm; it's like being perpetually hugged.  The Yorkshireman was clearly torn between revulsion, pity and reluctantly admitting it was "kinda cute" and has since spent the evening calling me "onesie".  But I care not, for the onesie and I are now one and happy we shall be on these cold winter evenings.  Mmmmm, snuggly...

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