Nov 14 2006
#14: the one about tights
As someone who lives in the vast, frozen Midwest, I understand the necessity of tights. Without them, skirt wearing in the winter would probably have rendered me a double-amputee at some point in my life (yay, hypothermia!), and I like my legs attached to my body, thankyouverymuch. So yes, tights. Very important. Yet, I hate them. In fact, I don’t know anyone who likes wearing tights. Sure, it’s possible to wear fishnets and pretend tights are fun, which I’ve done on occasion, but really, I know the truth. And what is the truth, exactly? Simple: tights suck.
Yesterday morning, I was getting dressed, and I was putting on a pair of tights I had unceremoniously grabbed from my sock drawer moments before. I’m familiar with the ways of control top tights, and as such, try my best not to buy them, yet apparently, I was in a coma while I was shopping one day, because these particular beasts were control top with an extra support panel. Does this count as overkill? Yes, I think so. (If you are not familiar with control top tights, then I applaud you. I will also explain. Control top tights are extra domineering on top, in order to make the belly appear flatter, and with an extra support panel? Well, that’s just bitchy. Got it? Okay.) So, as I was putting on the tights, I came to a conclusion. Getting dressed in the morning shouldn’t be so much work. I mean, I’m barely conscious before noon anyway, so having to expend energy to pull up pantyhose is really something way beyond the scope of anything I’m truly capable of so early in the day. And let me tell you, Internet — these tights were a lot of work! I actually broke a sweat. Seriously!
Picture it. (Not in great detail, or anything.) There I was, in a shirt and underpants, with one foot on my bed and the other on the floor, trying to coax the damned control top over my knees. Yes, over my knees. I do not have fat knees. In fact, they are rather bony. Granted, part of the difficulty was probably due to the fact that I had both feet in the tights — the crotchal* part of which was hovering around the mid-calf area — while trying to stand with one foot on the bed. But still. I should not have been sweating. It’s damn cold these days, and, as as I have established in the past, my bedroom is Antarctica, even in July. So honestly, sweating should’ve been a non-issue. Also, I’m lazy and don’t really like exercising, and I especially don’t want to do any exercising while I’m getting dressed in the morning. Damn you, control top tights! DAAAAMMMMNNNN YOOOOOUUUU!!!!
Ahem.
Anyway, I finally managed to get them up so I could finish getting dressed. And then an hour later I had to pee and I was sad. Sigh.
I would be content to leave it at that, and I’ve actually considered making this a two-parter, since it’s not like I’m overflowing with post ideas for the specialness that is NaBloPoMo, but whatever. I like to live dangerously. So, my other issue with tights is this: how the hell do I always end up with weird stuff in them? What do I mean? Well.
Not too long ago, I was sitting at my desk at work, when suddenly I noticed that my leg, it was itchin’ something fierce. So I scratched it. Upon so doing, I felt something weird. So I looked down, and there was a piece of paper resting on my knee. Inside my tights. I went to the bathroom on a search-and-destroy mission and discovered that there was a folded-up Post-It note stuck to my leg. How did that get there? Honestly, I’d really rather not know. I wish this had been the only time I’d found weird stuff in my tights, but unfortunately, it’s just… well, it’s not. Yes, there was the incident with the dryer sheet, there has been more than one run-in with tape, and then there was the one time I found a penny. Yes, you read that correctly. A penny. (I could feel it in my shoe, and then when I took my shoe off to inspect the problem, I noticed that hey, it was inside my tights.) I’m really not sure how these things are working their way into my pantyhose, because it’s not like I ever find weird stuff in my normal socks. Other than my feet, I mean. (And I’m not sure if my feet are weird, especially since now they get fan mail. Maybe I’ll tell you about that sometime. Oh, Internet, how special you are.)
Anyway, maybe I’m embarrassing myself by telling you that somehow I constantly manage to get foreign objects inside my tights,** but I know this doesn’t only happen to me, so whatever. Don’t need no hateration.
In the end, I just want to say that I’m pretty sure that tights are of the devil, and, um, I don’t know. They need to stop it.
* “Crotchal” is totally a word.
** That really sounded less weird in my head.
You’re totally not alone … and that’s all I’m going to say. ahem.
I hate foreign objects in tights! Sometimes if I haven’t vacuumed in a while, when I come out of the shower my wet feet will pick up little bits of grit and things that I don’t notice when I’m walking around in bare feet on carpet. But you notice them when they’re in your shoe! And of course the bottom of the foot is the farthest point from the tights’… entrance. Ugh.
So today I was wearing control top nylons but they reached up waaaay higher than the waistband on my skirt. That was so awkward and icky looking and I had to be especially careful not to let my shirt ride up.
I don’t know much about tights (this post was enlightening, in fact)…but I know that ‘I don’t like my juice wearing tights.’
I can definitively say that I’ve never e-mailed your feet. Which begs the question how do they respond? Now bony knees, I hear they are quite the conversationalists.
Perhaps my most profound observation…based on this post, I’ve been going about things all wrong. Instead of flirting or spending money on drinks, I’d be better off disguising myself as grit, a post-it, or a penny.
This makes me wonder: What do your tights get up to when you’re not around? And why does the word “tights” look funny to me now?
Read the note! Read the note!
Caryn — Heheheahem.
srah — Ack! I hate it when the waist of the tights is taller than the waist of the skirt! That happens all the time, and I always find it seriously distressing. I really have lots of tights issues.
Tony — Or maybe just as tights.
Fraulein — Your guess is as good as mine, though I think that in the interests of national security, we’re probably all better off not knowing. Also, “tights” is a dumbass-looking word.
Linus — This happened awhile ago so I don’t remember what it said, but I’m sure I did read the note. I mean, I think it’s protocol — find a note in your tights, read it. But knowing myself as I do, it probably said something stupid, like “Guacamole” since those are the things I write down, leaving all important things un-noted. Not that guacamole isn’t important, because it most certainly is.