The Trials and Tribulations of Skirt Wearing
I wore a skirt to work today. If you know me, you know how monumental and rare of an act this is, and should therefore be marked down on a calendar or carved in stone for all time.
After I was in the skirt for about 15 minutes, I realized why I do not wear skirts.
First, I'll mention briefly how much I love that opaque tights are currently "in" in fashion. I don't exactly have Carrie Underwood legs to go around strutting. And who needs to shave? Hello, I'm married. And it's winter people. So dark, heavy tights, way to go! I celebrate you. However, the putting on of said tights is strategically, scientifically, emotionally, physically, and psychologically exhausting. The first leg is always the easiest, but then you have the second leg. And getting that leg in requires a graceful, delicate balancing act that only flamingos can achieve. (or are they pelicans? What the heck is that bird that stands on one leg? And why do they?)
I think I managed to balance on one leg while lifting the other and aiming into the tights for only about 3/10 of a second at a given time. After lots of stumbles and wobbles and very unlady like motions and swearing, I finally gave up and sat on the bed. There, tights fully on. Whew!
So, off to work I go. Crap. It's TOUGH getting into a car in a long skirt. I can see why Paris and Britney and Lindsey have all managed to share their woo hoos with the world while maneuvering in and out of cars in skirts. I should mail them some tights....
At work and parked, ready to be a productive, skirt-wearing member of society. I realize at the moment I exited my car that I chose the windiest day of November to wear a skirt. In 40 mph winds. Dear. Lord.
The next eight hours passed delightfully by with me constantly checking my behind to make sure the skirt was down at my ankles as it should be. And listening to people point out the very obvious that I was wearing, in fact, a skirt. (Literally, a dozen times today I heard, "Hey! You're wearing a skirt!" Really, Captain Obvious and Nancy Drew?) And wishing I hadn't worn a skirt. And noticing how my thighs manage to rub together, even in tights.
I am home now, exhausted, crabby, sans tights, and looking through the closet at the pants I'll be wearing tomorrow.
After I was in the skirt for about 15 minutes, I realized why I do not wear skirts.
First, I'll mention briefly how much I love that opaque tights are currently "in" in fashion. I don't exactly have Carrie Underwood legs to go around strutting. And who needs to shave? Hello, I'm married. And it's winter people. So dark, heavy tights, way to go! I celebrate you. However, the putting on of said tights is strategically, scientifically, emotionally, physically, and psychologically exhausting. The first leg is always the easiest, but then you have the second leg. And getting that leg in requires a graceful, delicate balancing act that only flamingos can achieve. (or are they pelicans? What the heck is that bird that stands on one leg? And why do they?)
I think I managed to balance on one leg while lifting the other and aiming into the tights for only about 3/10 of a second at a given time. After lots of stumbles and wobbles and very unlady like motions and swearing, I finally gave up and sat on the bed. There, tights fully on. Whew!
So, off to work I go. Crap. It's TOUGH getting into a car in a long skirt. I can see why Paris and Britney and Lindsey have all managed to share their woo hoos with the world while maneuvering in and out of cars in skirts. I should mail them some tights....
At work and parked, ready to be a productive, skirt-wearing member of society. I realize at the moment I exited my car that I chose the windiest day of November to wear a skirt. In 40 mph winds. Dear. Lord.
The next eight hours passed delightfully by with me constantly checking my behind to make sure the skirt was down at my ankles as it should be. And listening to people point out the very obvious that I was wearing, in fact, a skirt. (Literally, a dozen times today I heard, "Hey! You're wearing a skirt!" Really, Captain Obvious and Nancy Drew?) And wishing I hadn't worn a skirt. And noticing how my thighs manage to rub together, even in tights.
I am home now, exhausted, crabby, sans tights, and looking through the closet at the pants I'll be wearing tomorrow.
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