This morning, I was getting ready for work and put on a dress that I hate. Like seriously hate. Why I even still own it, I don't know. So, I'm finishing up getting ready and I smell something. It smells like sour milk and wet dog. And it's my dress. Now it is (was?) clean and has been hanging in my closet for close to a year. Why it smells like this, I don't know. It's as if my hatred for the dress has manifested itself into this God awful odor. Now I need to change. And I don't have a ton of time.
Let me step back for a minute. For those of you that don't know, I left the corporate world to work for my Dad. An easy going environment. A place where you don't have to suit up. So putting on a dress, with heels, and pantyhose and a jacket feels very different. Like constricting. As if the life is being squeezed out of me. This isn't me anymore. I'm immediately in a bad mood, and the hate dress really accentuated my feelings.
So I put on another dress. One that I don't love, but definitely don't hate. Although it's kind of black and white April the Giraffe looking. Oh well. It will do. I grab my pantyhose, because with this jacket and dress, there are no cute sandals that work. It's a little stuffier. After checking for runs (none--YAY!), I scrunch the pantyhose up at the toes. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. You do this so you don't create a run as you pull them up. So I pull them over my feet. All good. I work my way up to my calf...keep in mind, this is nothing like how you see people putting on pantyhose on TV. There is nothing sexy about this. Picture more of a sausage casing being stuffed with meat. Anyway, I'm putting them on. They get to my calf and there is this bunch. I don't know how else to describe it, other than a rubber band. Now, these are the Support style, so they are shiny and must have more elastic to suck you in. I look down and I can't figure out what is going on. It's like they somehow turned themselves inside out, but you can't get to the top or the bottom. Just a band is there. A band that isn't moving.
I immediately start to sweat. If you have ever worn pantyhose, you know that sweat and the hose don't mix. It's awful. It's like there becomes an invisible force field on your body that won't allow the damn things to slide. So you push and pull and maybe jump a little. It's like putting on clothes when you are still damp from the shower. And this damn rubber band section on my calf isn't budging. So I thought, hey...I'll put the other leg in. That way, maybe I can figure out what to do with this side. Well I do. And the SAME. THING. HAPPENS. It's like when someone is going to the bathroom and they have their pants around their legs. That's how far up they are. I have to walk like you do when you are out of toilet paper and your pants are around your ankles. Don't judge. We've all done it. It's a hip swinging shuffle. Now I'm laughing. And walking. And my dog is looking at me like I am a complete nutcase. But guess what? The walking worked out the rubber band calves and I was able to work them all the way up! Yay, right? Not so fast. I get them almost all the way up and the crotch (that's such a gross word) is like 2 1/2 inches from where it should be. There's extra space. And it's annoying. So I've accomplished what I need to, my fat butt is in these damn constricting pantyhose. So what do I do? Grab and pull. And you know what happened? A FREAKING RUN! So if you see me today, my pantyhose have a run high enough that you can't see it while I stand, so I'm not changing my hose. Nope. I'm wearing these all day. They are like a battle wound. Wearing them proudly. I worked hard to get them on, and I am making damn sure I get my money's worth!
Here's to hoping you don't have a stinky dress, rubber band pantyhose kind of day!