I got up this morning and spontaneously decided to take a departure from my normal winter work wardrobe of jeans and a sweater and clunky black shoes. I don’t know why because everyone who knows me knows that I am the least spontaneous person alive. But it happened and into my bag went underwear, a green skirt, a black shirt, a pair of tights, and some black dress shoes with 1.5-inch heels. A daring look, I know. So I rode into work, and go to the bathroom to change out of my spandex and into what must be the fanciest thing I have worn in the workplace since we last saw 80 degrees—meaning, it is February and no one even remembers 80 degrees ago. I put on new underwear; I put on my shirt; and then I put my right foot through the leg of the tights and out comes my foot at the the other end, and I was all, What the...
World: they were FOOTLESS TIGHTS. To make it worse, they had rather large stars on them that got even bigger as you moved up the leg. I couldn’t remember seeing these tights ever before, except that I had seen them before because these were the Yearly Christmas Gift of Tights from my mother circa 2009. And now I will relay the following personal note to my mother via the Internet: MOM: I am 32 years old. Maybe tights with patterns on them are no longer an age-appropriate gift for your daughter. Love, Marge. (PS: I bet you will print this one out for the Ladies at the Office, so here’s a shout-out to the Ladies who I hope are not buying footless decorative tights for their grown daughters.)
To say the least, those footless tights were not a good look. My legs were all big-ass stars supported by two frighteningly white feet stuck in a pair of shoes that were not meant to go with footless tights. I looked like a giant 13-year-old—a giant 13-year-old who would be seen by actual humans around the building—and I wasn’t certain that my seasonally affected self could handle that.
So I called Jason, who, as luck would have it, worked from home today, and I was all, “I brought footless tights to work and I look like a fool. Please sympathize with me now.” And with a heavy sigh, he was all, “Do you want me to bring you some tights with feet?” And I almost said yes, but then I thought about the environment and decided that my self-esteem was not as important as 15 miles worth of carbon emissions.
And then I changed my mind.
But instead of calling Jason, I called a coworker who lives two blocks from my house and asked if she had left her house yet. She had not, and seriously, elves and unicorns came out of my cell phone and did a dance on my desk when they heard that news. So I called Jason and told him to take all the tights he could find in my underwear drawer and put them in a bag and give the bag to Gail who would stop by to pick up the tights.
Y’all, Jason found FIVE PAIRS OF TIGHTS, including one fishnet, in that drawer. I never knew I had so many—heck, my mother probably doesn't know that I have so many either even though she bought all of them for me at one time or another.
So Gail shows up at 8:15 with the bag full of tights, takes a look at my get-up, and decides that she has indeed performed an act of community service. She was rewarded with a big hug.
As you can see, all ended well for me today, and I even think I learned a few things:
- Never blindly reach into a drawer for a pair of tights. Take your time and inspect. This probably could apply to underwear as well.
- Jeans are always the best option. Always.
- The Christmas of 2010 is the last time my sisters and I will ever receive a pair of tights from our mother. Because the next time my mom is in the Target and reaches for three packs (one for each of her girls because she always buys in three) of the trendy tight of the month, she will remember that I wrote this and she will THINK TWICE.
