When I was a little lass, I walked downstairs to my parents' Christmas party. I had a cute little green Christmas dress (that I hated) with red tights that had a cable knit pattern, I believe.
I was at an age where I was growing faster than the rate of tights purchases. And I was a tall little kid. Which meant that tights that were already small were extra small because I had long little legs.
So, if you've worn tights or stockings or footie pajamas, you know that no matter how hard you try to pull them up, they will not stay up. You just can't get them to a place where they'll stay. The footie pajamas just won't reach your shoulders. The tights won't stay up on your hips or waist without sliding down again. In fact, they may even beging to roll into a rolly-tube thing and then roll on down you.
I mentioned that my red tights were too small to the first party guest I met (the mom of my later-on first "boyfriend" you know, the kid version where you're pals and hang out lots and lots). I felt really self conscious about my tights, even though people couldn't see that they were falling down.
She said to me, "Who knows what lurks beneath a woman's skirt?"
I started wondering what was under her skirt and I had the idea that they were somehow twisted up and that's why women walked like they were swinging their hips--to keep their tights up.
At any rate, let's talk about me. Although I've been told repeatedly lately, and in public two days ago (see comments from a bad, bad person), that I'm a bad, bad person, I think bad people are oh-so-interesting. So get out your notebooks, kids. Here comes some interestingness.
I was teaching a class today. The only clean stockings of the appropriate color were a bit too short. I wore them anyway, figuring that I was only going to be there for four hours.
But! The half-life of too-small stockings is apparently less than four hours. By the second break I'd given my class, my stockings were at the dangerous point of the widest part of my hips. A person might think that this is an okay place.
A person would be wrong. If I were made of cubes or rectangular solids (that's what they called them in school) it'd be great. They'd just stay hooked over the edge and there's be no difficulty.
However, I'm not quite that boxy. And as I was cleaning up and chatting with my students and answering questions, hey, whoa, my hips weren't good enough anymore.
Zzzzzoooop! My tights are rolling down so I'm walking kind of like I'm trying to keep my tights up. Sashaying around in a panic afraid that I'd be walking like a penguin in 4.7 seconds and have everyone know why I was sashaying around and have this stretchy fabric ring just above my shoes.
And it's not like you can run away. You'd be running with your feet swinging out in half circles and you know you'd have your dress shoes on so you'd be clacking around like a penguin in tap shoes.
I made it out of there in time to rescue myself from the descending tights, but man. What if it happens again and I can only make it as far as the yarn aisle?
What happens then?
Who knows what lurks under the skirts of women?
I do.
Posted by dotty at November 18, 2003 06:05 PM