Mar 27, 2010

Pantyhose are the Devil.

I am ashamed to say that my mentor would not be very proud of me this morning. I woke up in a good mood, proud of myself for starting my blog and wanted to wear an Audrey-esque outfit to celebrate. The weather was nice, I was up early, I was going to fix my hair and wear a dress. I spent longer than usual fixing my hair into a perfectly orchestrated chignon bun with little wisps of hair by my face. I'm liking this. I knew exactly what dress I wanted to wear. A simple black sheath dress with white polka dots and a small bow in the middle. I can almost picture her wearing it. I slip my dress on, feeling very put-together and go to put on my pantyhose (which aren't my favorite but required in the workplace dress code). Taking out my brand new pair of Silken Mist Jet Black pantyhose, I put them on and notice a smallish hole toward my thigh. I'm already cutting it close in time, so the option to change them isn't available. I grab a bottle of clear nail polish to seal the edges when I get to work, thinking I will divert any pantyhose-related disaster from happening. I rush out the door, scrape the ice off my car (thank you Kentucky weather) and proceed to climb in. This is when I notice it. My small, completely unnoticable hole has turned into a giant, softball sized, I-could-fit-my-head-through-it hole with one lone run extending well past my knee. There's no ignoring the state of my pantyhose now. Calling my boss, I inform her of my fashion crisis and my need to make a trip to the closest Wal-Mart or Walgreens in town. 40 minutes, two boxes of pantyhose and $6 later, I'm sporting a brand new, run-free pair of hose and hoping the day goes by a little smoother than it started. As long as the Wildcats win against West Virginia tonight, all will be well and the morning will be forgotten. Sorry I disappointed, Audrey...maybe we can try again tomorrow?


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