Not A Recommendation

My father-in-law's funeral was today. Of course, you have to look decent for these sort of events, so I wanted to wear a dress. I decided that I would need to wear pantyhose. I haven't worn pantyhose in years, because a)it is just too darn hot most days in this part of the world, ad b)they are part of some man's evil plot to rule the world.

I went to Target and bought L'eggs. A two pack. I bought size Q because I was told that if you buy the largest size there was less likely to be a problem with runs. I go home, get cleaned up and groomed(I even trimmed my nose hair, Jill!), got dressed and put on the pantyhose. I start to pull them up.

I was not pulling hard, I was merely trying to get the pantyhose above my knees in the direction of my groin...and I put my thumb through a leg of the hose. Runs went in several directions, but mostly downward.

I rolled my eyes to the heavens. I closed my eyes.

&#@%!!!! Luckily, Zane was still at daycare.

Then I took a deep breath, took that pair off and got the other one, thanking whichever angel whose turn it was to look after me for my choosing a two pack of L'eggs. This pair I was able to at least pull up to my thighs before my thumb again poked a hole into the nylon, sending runs south.

#@#%&*%$#@#@!!!!

Thinking more clearly now after all the deep breathing I did in the previous paragraph, I grabbed some nail polish and furiously attempted to arrest the run. The nail polish was not clear, it was bright red. But I was pressed for time. I then went back to trying to pull Queen-sized pantyhose up my legs. I would have sworn the pantyhose were size 2 they were so difficult to put on. I even kept looking at the box to make sure I had the correct size, because these pantyhose felt like what a sausage casing might feel like. Finally I got them to my waist, but I poked two more holes into them. I sealed them with nail polish, too. If people had seen my leg, they would have thought that I was bleeding from an artery.

As soon as I stood up, the waist of those damned things started to roll up. Awesome. I spent the entire funeral wondering if my pantyhose were going to continue their deconstruction. My anxiety about this directly interfered with my attention, I will say. On this particularly sad occasion, I kept picturing my pantyhose disintegrating, with a small explosion, during the funeral, people running from the shrapnel.

Fortunately, none of my fears came to pass. This time. But I will not ever wear L'eggs again. I need to be able to count on my legwear to hold up at least through one wearing!