Make no mistake; I am a huge fan of improvement – self, home, wrinkle-reducing products. I applaud that je ne sais quoi
within that moves us to reinvent, build on, and perfect. That said, I do think, on ocassion, we go just a little too far.
I went shopping for pantyhose Saturday. Yes, I did. I happen to be one of the 26 people, mostly women, that wear them here in the south Texas where the temperatures drop below 100 degrees at least twice a year.
All I wanted was a couple of pair of my tried and true, Size B, used to come in an egg brand; preferably with a Control top and sheer toe. Nude and Off black. Green and Silver Box. The packaging hasn’t changed in twenty years. Well not since they got rid of the eggs.
I surveyed the plethora of options. In addition to choosing a color and deciding whether I needed my toes reinforced, I had to now somehow decide on a particular combination of size and tensile strength, namely: Control Top, Body Shaper, Silken Mist, Queen, Support, Ultra Sheer, Thigh High, Capri Length, All Day, Jet black, Off-Black, Taupe, Suntan, Nude, Off-White, Coffee, and Waistband Free.
Did you catch that?
Okay, I’m not the brightest bulb in the chandelier but why wouldn’t
we want a waistband? Stay with me. If it doesn’t have a waistband then HOW are we supposed to keep them up? No matter. Technology can do amazing things. I succumbed to the siren’s song of “no-bind” ease and gave them a shot, wearing them to an important appointment.
I didn’t make it to my car before they started to move. They made a break for it by the first red light and by the time I hit the on-ramp they were almost free. You bet they don’t bind, they DON’T STAY UP LONG ENOUGH TO BIND! What was I thinking? Since when did “Comfort” and “Pantyhose” ever belong in the same sentence?
I didn’t even need the Control Top. They fell way past my control and I must have done fifty sit ups just trying to pull the suckers back up. Up down, up down. You try that with one hand on the steering wheel and your cell phone in your mouth. Thank God I drive an automatic.
I haven’t felt so foolish since I tried “thigh high” stockings back in high school, with their “sure-grip” technology they was were guaranteed to stay in place. Apparently, “place”
means “somewhere around the ankles.”
Well, you know what I always say… live, learn, die of embarrassment.
It always makes a fun post! Soldier on!