Sunday, March 29, 2009

Dear Pantyhose,

Dear Pantyhose,

Why do you turn into a shredded mass of nylon upon making contact with my body? And how did you manage to convince everyone that you are an essential part of a professional wardrobe? And do you ever feel guilty about making me roast in the summer and freeze in the winter? Or making me spend $3.50 every time I have to wear you? Don't you think you could hold it together long enough to make it through more than one job interview?

Have I ever mentioned the fact that the sound of the word "pantyhose" makes me cringe? No? Well, it does.



Anonymous said...

Pantyhose are sent straight from the devil.

I just wrote a post about the trials of having to deal with them, actually... guess the subject is in the air, somehow.

If you're interested -

and then,

Your Ill-fitting Overcoat said...


The underside of my desk at work is really scratchy and EVERY TIME I cross my legs at work, I rip a new tear in my tights // hosiery. Insane.