How I Built an Endometriosis-Friendly Wardrobe

I’ve loved fashion ever since I got my first pair of plastic princess heels. (This only intensified after the grueling days of high school, when my mom took me to the mall for “retail therapy.”) As an adult, I saved for knockout dresses and lingerie that made me feel like I could conquer anything, even just on a CVS run. That changed when I was diagnosed with endometriosis in my first year of law school, after I’d had symptoms for almost 20 years, ever since my first period. I’ve now been through five surgeries, countless hours of physical therapy and doctors’ appointments, and more than a handful of harrowing ER trips. I’m lucky to have wonderful care as I fight this disease with my all…but no one told me I’d have to completely overhaul my wardrobe.

The worsening of chronic pain made getting dressed a challenge. Jeans felt like fiberglass around my abdomen—and pelvic discomfort meant that The following are some examples of how to use My worst enemy was pants. My college years were filled with bodycon dresses, lace bras and tight pants. This girl My nerves were on fire. I could not bear wearing clothes that were stiff.

In the years since, I’ve mastered the art of looking and feeling good despite these limitations. I have close friends with endo. We all text each other when we notice something. You can also find out more about the following: Mirror selfies of your softest pants, most flattering outfit and mirror selfies to help us choose Ooh The following are some examples of how to get started: Ahhh Over how hot our chronically sick besties are. Even if most of our outfits aren’t headed on some grand adventure, it’s important for us to feel cute or hot or sophisticated or What is the best way to get in touch with you? vibe we’re going for as we run an errand, go on a mellow walk, or enjoy a night in.

As dressing became more difficult, I also found it harder to look in the mirror. Finding my way back to wearing clothing I love, and feeling good when I look in the mirror, has been transformative as I’ve figured out post-diagnosis life. After endless experimentation and group chats (and many online returns), here’s what I’ve learned about dressing myself with a disability—while also maintaining the sense of pleasure I’ve found in clothes since my princess-heels days.

Allow yourself to breathe when choosing pants.

Pants suck when it comes to pain-friendliness—they can be constrictive and overly structured. Since I tend to avoid them, the ones that I do wear are of exceptional quality. I look for stretchy materials that don’t dig into me and I buy a lot of pants one size up, a trick one of my best friends with endo taught me: Tight waistbands are absolute hell when you have any kind of pelvic pain, and God forbid you have to sit down. With endo, there’s also always the potential for bloating, which is often referred to as endo belly. I can leave my house without any issue there and come home a few hours later feeling like I swallowed a balloon, so it’s important for my pants to be accommodating.

Stretchy pencil pants are my go-to when I want to appear professional (Norma Kamali $99). For chino-style pants, I make sure the waistband is comfortable and the fabric is lightweight, but holds its shape—this Djerf Avenue pair is my go-to ($125). Although they may be considered athleisure, these Lululemon mini flares ($118) as well as the Aerie dupe ($32) are my favorites. Both have a wide waistband which looks seamless. The slight bell bottom gives them a more casual look. pants It’s a little like yoga pantsThe look is especially cute when paired with a cute pair of loafers.

Boxy, oversized tops are your best friends.

For shirts, I—surprise!—focus on fabrics that feel good on my skin. That’s typically cotton poplin that’s crisp, but not scratchy; anything silky (whether that’s silk or satin); modal; rayon; and cashmere-esque knitwear. I love the silhouettes that are feminine, but not too tight. For example, oversized button-ups at Abercrombie and Gap. For romantic blouses, I splurge on Dôen. One of their sleep tops made me feel comfortable after surgery. , Genuinely, You can also find out more about the following: It’s still pretty even after five hours on the operating table. My exact sleep top is no longer available, but this beauty is very similar (Dôen, $148), and they have a wonderful selection of silky and breezy cotton sleepwear separates and nightgowns.

For knitwear, I make sure there’s zero risk of them making me itchy or instigating skin irritation. Wool makes me break out in hives so I look for knits made of cotton or synthetic fibers. It takes some trial and error because online descriptions are often so far removed from what arrives on your doorstep, but typically anything with a cashmere feel is a good bet, as is anything that’s 100% cotton. Along with avoiding wool, I typically stay away from knits with a linen component, which sometimes just feels like they’ve mixed straw into the fabric. Some faves include sweaters from Djerf Avenue, cotton tops from Sézane, and anything from Gap’s CashSoft line. I’ve recently found my holy-grail T-shirts for $15 at Old Navy. The cropped and boxy vintage cut are both super gentle.

You should choose a wireless bra if you are experiencing vulvar pain. Also, choose a silhouette that is looser and fuller if your vulvar area is inflamed.

Years ago, my physical therapist told me to skip underwire bras as often as I could—and to forgo panties entirely because they can trigger or worsen my pelvic floor dysfunction (a technical term for the nerve and muscle pain that can come with endo). Each and every one of my friends with endo has also heard this from their docs: Basically, if it’s got a seam that digs into your vulva or a wire that presses against your ribs, it’s going to make your already-shitty pain worse.