Friday, February 06, 2009

This one should come with a warning.

This may be crossing the line a bit on personal information. If so, please feel free to stop reading at any point and attempt to scrub it from your memory.

Yesterday, my pantyhose failed me.

Yes, its true - that most impenetrable forces of nature...nylon...finally succumbed to the ever increasing demands of my pregnant body.

I knew something was amiss around noon when I went to get a file out the bottom drawer. It was a strange popping sensation. I ignored the obvious warning signs mostly because there was absolutely nothing I could do about it anyway and continued about my day.

I walked to the post office and noted that despite my frequent complaints that pantyhose offered not one single ounce of warmth, they did in fact help me retain some measure of body heat on my lower extremeties. I say this because it became more evident at certain parts of me became increasingly chilled.

Throughout the rest of the day I noted with irritation that a mere shift in my chair would cause yet more finely crafted fibers to become uninterlocked and give way. Things that were supposed to be firmly and snuggly tucked into said stockings were now, most definitely NOT firmly and snuggly tucked into, well, anything whatsoever.

I made it home to see that yes, almost the entire left leg of my pantyhose had become disengaged. I was saved a really scary case of elephant ankles by a few preciously brave threads clinging for dear life - fighting against the nearly unbearable load bearing upon them.

I should have seen this coming. Its just been very very difficult for reasons I cannot explain to even put ON a pair of nylons. I mean, there were times it became downright hysterical to see me rolling around on the bed, attempting to somehow smush myself into those not-so-forgiving strands of fabric. Here, woman with a bad case of pregnancy waddling, you should tie your ankles together and then attempt to raise them over your head without tipping onto your side whilst lying on your back - then reach down and touch your ankles - yes they are still there - and once you do that pull the dangerously fragile stockings up to your...you get the picture here, right? Stupidity goes hand in hand with stubbornness. I have no shortage of stubbornness!

At any rate, I really felt forced, if you will, into wearing nylons. I mean, it is winter in Iowa and I’m not getting any tanner down there. Not that I can see that. I mean, obviously I can’t. But I’m guessing the girth of the shadow cast my this stomach is making it impossible for me to get a tan on a sunny beach in Mexico. And we are not in Mexico. I have a few knee-length skirts and I have a job which requires a certain level of business casual outfitting. We’re not even going to talk about the struggles of shaving legs. So yeah...I figured I would just keep wearing nylons until it became impossible.

Which was, evidently, yesterday.

So from now on, I have intentions of wearing LONG skirts with knee-highs or some very lovely slacks. That should be much easier. And safer. You’re welcome.

1 comment:

Dale Deur said...

Yet another reason I'm glad to be a man...