*bangs head on desk*
OK, we all know that I have a habit of wardrobe malfunctions. Some of them are horribly embarrassing and some are just inconvenient. Well, I have no idea what to file this one under.
This morning while I was getting ready, I realized I wanted to remind myself that I can look like a girl and wear a dress to work. As it was chilly, I wanted a pair of tights to go under it, but the only pair I could find looked small for me. I had worn them to church not long ago and spent most of the morning tugging them up. This is not a particularly attractive action, but when the tights start to slide down, it is a necessity. I figured I must have gained weight and that was what caused the general migration of the tights, but as they were the only pair I had on hand, they were going to have to do. In a fit of inspiration, I decided that since I'd be wearing my most awesome knee-high boots, I could do a little surgery on them without anyone being the wiser. So I snipped the ends of them off so my feet could go through. At first, everything seemed to work just fine, but beginning after my department meeting this morning, the migration began again.
I suppose I should pause here and mention that when one feels too fat for their clothes, it can be a downer for the day. No one wants to feel as if their clothes are too tight, but that's what I was dealing with. So periodically, and by the grace of God alone no one saw me do this, I was able to just flip my skirt over my head and give the 'ol tights a tug.
As the day went on, this began to be a problem. I was pulling them up every ten minutes or so. At about 4:30, when I had just about decided to just pull off my boots and cut the damn things off at the knees, I realized why my tights kept slipping down. It wasn't because I had gained weight, thank goodness, but for another reason that should have been much more obvious to me before I even put them on. The tights were not for adults. These were children's tights that I bought because I needed the stretchy material for some kind of project that I never wound up doing. I was basically trying to wear clothes that were meant for a child of about ten. I should probably write a letter to the company that produced them to compliment the elasticity of their fabric or something. I'm hardly the size of a 10 year old, after all. I have no idea why it didn't dawn on me before then, but it hadn't.
Seriously, I need someone to dress me in the mornings.