Temple Commando

Posted May 26, 2026 ByKate Baxter

I’m sitting in a sub-par Mexican restaurant, wondering when I became a lady who lunches, something very different from a lunch lady, but still involving dishes and steam. My non-LDS childhood friend Chelle is in town. An amateur social scientist, everything authentically LDS is anthropological catnip to her, so she tags along with me to an RS meeting of empty nesters. I prep Chelle that nominally it’s about ministering and Christ, but it’s really more about group therapy and Diet Cokes.

She’s all in.

Susan walks in a little late. She sits down in the empty chair next to me and says, “Sundress? Cute. Very, um, bright. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something like that.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m entering my Dress Era.”

“Oh. That’s…nice,” Susan says in the voice very polite people use when they have no idea what you’re talking about.

Chelle tries not to snort into her soda. As much as I’d like to think I’m too young for this group, my empty nest doesn’t lie.

“It’s the new slip garments,” Diane says. “They make wearing dresses so easy now. Don’t you agree, Kate?”

I try not to squirm in my seat. “Yes,” I say. “They do.” Technically, this t-shirt dress is very g-friendly, but I’m only wearing bike shorts and a bra underneath.

Old high school habits die hard, even in middle-age.

Luellen leans close. “I haven’t tried the slips yet. I can’t figure out what to wear underneath. It feels like we traded one thing for another.”

I take a breath to say cotton grannie panties, but Mary Beth beats me to it. “Oh!” she says. “We had a whole conversation about this in the temple dressing room last week. Everybody agreed—nothing. Garment slips are complete underwear.”

Without missing a beat Diane says, “That’s what I do, too. So much more comfortable.”

My jaw hits the table.

Chelle’s eyes light up. “Just so we’re clear, you guys are free bal—” She feels me flinch and pivots. “I mean—going commando in the temple?”

“Yes, dear,” Diane says as if to a very slow child. “We’re all in long dresses with too many layers. Nobody’s going to see anything.” She sips her water and sighs. “It’s very freeing.”

“Not just in the temple,” says Mary Beth. “A lot of the women said they wear them that way around the house, even to church.”

The sisters who lunch nod very matter-of-factly as my brain melts. I’ll never look at a woman of a certain age in a dress the same way again.

Temple?!

Church?!

Maybe I’m the one who’s too old for all this.

“Did you hear the Morris boy got called to Guatemala?” Luellen asks as the conversation turns.

Chelle catches my eye. “Your older Mormon friends are so metal.” She giggles in delight.

“Yeah,” I say. “Who knew?”