Suffering For Beauty

2:00 in the afternoon is usually the time I begin to notice that whatever is present around my waist needs to NOT BE, and quick, or there will be exploding.

So, imagine my surprise when I started to have the Hindenburg-like sensations about 5 hours earlier than normal. I thought this morning when I put on a skirt and tights that maybe I would be uncomfortable at some point in the day. Little did I know that I’d be heading to the bathroom at 9:30 with a pair of scissors, a bad attitude, and a desperate wish to continue breathing. I made some slits in the front, back and on both sides of the offending tights and perhaps I was a little overzealous, because my butt has been playing peek-a-boo with the rest of the world ever since. Really, it is like a bad music video around here, today.

We won’t even talk about the obvious nylon lumps of fabric that are now bunched up under my skirt as a result of the scissor wielding. Nor will we talk about the myriad reasons why I justifiably could have killed T late this morning when he asked why I didn’t just wear the ones that “…only come up to your thigh?” That sounds as good to me right now as EVER WEARING TIGHTS AGAIN does.

Lesson learned. No more tights.