Pantyhose…

must have been invented by a man. Why would a woman think that inventing a product into which one squeezes one’s legs into tubes that almost cut off circulation is a good idea?

Pantyhose are part of my uniform now. It has been years since I have voluntarily worn pantyhose. I had forgotten the idiosyncrasies of pantyhose. Such as. Pantyhose take time, a lot of time, to put on correctly. It never happens on the first try. And you cannot rush pantyhose. It’s sort of like writing. There’s the first draft. The revision. The editing. Then the final draft when you’re ready to walk out the door.

If you try to rush pantyhose evil things happen. Your fist suddenly bursts through a seam, sending multitudes of runs down your leg. Or, worse. Pantyhose always have the last word.

I only have a five minute break in between classes now. Enough time to return to my desk, get my books for my next class, take a sip of water, and go to my next classroom. But, sometimes, just sometimes, I have to also fit a trip to the bathroom into that 5 minutes as well. Like today. I was tugging on my pantyhose, preparing to return to class. Oh, there’s the bell. Don’t have time to do the re-tug and straightening. Okay, I’m fine. And I rushed out the door.

Pantyhose don’t like to be rushed. They like to be treated gently. Gingerly. Lovingly attended to. Smoothed and resmoothed. They like to think they are the sole recipient of your attention. And, quite frankly, they should be.

As I rushed back into the teacher’s room, I could feel stares upon me. But I’m getting used to that. Everyday I am met by stares, usually from Koreans. But here were 6 American men staring at me, no one saying a word. “What?” I asked with irritation. Chanta heard my voice, turned around and burst out laughing. She was laughing so hard she couldn’t speak. Tears formed in her eyes. She was gasping for breath. She finally took her hands and frantically rubbed her skirt, then pointed at me. I rubbed my skirt. Or where my skirt should have been. Oh, my god. I could feel the heat radiating from my face.

Pantyhose, oh, pantyhose, oh how you have forsaken me. Was it really necessary to capture my skirt, baring my legs (et al) for the world to see?