Who Makes These Things!

If men had to wear stockings, they’d be undoubtedly abolished.

Waking up for work is hard enough.  Add having to pick out a fantastic outfit just in case the hot guy on the 6^th floor happens to be in your elevator, and it’s just too much for a rainy Monday morning.

As luck should have it, the frock I picked out actually wasn’t half bad.  During the seventy-six second period between pushing the elevator button, balancing my phone and coffee, and the elevator’s arrival, there was a brief but glorious moment when I glanced in the mirror and thought I’d pulled off the impossible – a fashion victory in just under twenty minutes of preparation.

I should have known it was all too easy.

Not five minutes into my 9AM meeting did my boot of doom somehow grow claws, latch onto my tights (the same ones I’d prided myself on not ripping during my sunrise extreme makeover), and rip a hole just big enough to become the bane of my existence.

9:02 AM – boot defeats stocking in the battle of good versus evil.

I sat in my chair, helpless yet plotting how I could stop the rip that was growing faster than a chia pet.  (Note – when you’re only resources are pen, paper, and boredom, you’re shit out of luck in all wardrobe malfunction remedy attempts.)  Of course, nail polish would have fixed said rip from spreading immediately, but who carries clear nail polish with them all day!?

Answer – me (and you) from now on.

Sans nail polish and pride, I ran (fine, walked briskly) to the local drug store to buy what turned out to be the world’s smallest pair of stockings.  It took ten minutes of tugging and pulling and praying to get those bastards on in the bathroom, all the while gagging because the woman one stall over couldn’t say no to beans on her Hale and Hearty salad for lunch.

Truth be told, I made it out of the bathroom alive, but the damage was done.  I’m never wearing stockings (or looking at that woman the same way) again.

Tags: Fashion, Humor, Stockings, Women