I'm not comfortable with pants (I have chubby thighs, OK - THERE I SAID IT!) so I cannot get away with knee-highs or simple socks worn with pants as most of my thin-thighed friends do (a plague upon their thigh master!).
My pantyhose woes begin right smack from the start: The pantyhose store. Once inside, I am facing rows and rows of endless varieties and scratching my head.
A salesgirl approaches eager to get rid of me cause I'm blocking some product. I want out too, so I state my mission clear and loud: "Need pantyhose, casual, no lace, no fancy stuff, nude or beige or whatever looks like I'm-not-wearing-pantyhose colour, low price, no stomach tuckings, butt shapers and I want it BIG!"
Salesgirl quickly nods in understanding, but I repeat myself slowly again in the hopes she doesn't sell me what SHE thinks I should be wearing, but what I need.
I buy. Take home. Put in hosiery drawer. (I may be thick-thighed, but I'm an organized thick-thigher, dammit!)
Usually I'm very good at being on time, however when it's pantyhose season my morning routine falls 10 minutes behind:
Scenario 1: The pantyhose stops a few inches before the goal line: my crotch, thus creating that weird crotch gap (Hey, if I was guy I'd be filling these babies in).
Scenario 2: The pantyhose feels like its suffocating so it goes for a run - maybe two. (My mind screams: "Please stop, stop somewhere high where I can block you with nail polish and no one will see you").
Scenario 3: Both of the above.
Consequently, I have to change pantyhose causing me to be late.
I ask the pantyhoser makers of the world: "Why are you so greedy? I KNOW you have found the formula for non-running, crotch-reaching pantyhose! How much money do want to make off of me? Take pity!" Alas, my cries go unheard and I still have 5 and 1/2 months until pantyhose season ends...
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