Getting Hosed

I recently went to a Christmas party and I needed to buy some pantyhose. I'm pretty sure I vowed several years ago to never again be subjected to such dire torture. Since I bought the hooker boots a couple years back, I just wear knee-high socks. (That's really not as bad as it sounds.) In summer, I wear some kick-ass wedge sandals; in winter I tend to avoid skirts and dresses at all costs. However, I was going to a house party and felt like dolling it up, but was instructed not to wear heels as to avoid damage to the hardwood floors. Not wanting to go barefoot, pantyhose seemed the only option.

I may as well have been buying spark plugs.

I'm serious. I was totally lost. Any idea how many different types of pantyhose there are?! And different shades? And every package of pantyhose has a map on the back so you can figure out how fat you are/what size you need. There are thigh-high stockings, pantyhose, anklets, knee-highs, and tights; there are control top, low-rise, sheer to waist, seamless and reinforced toe.

And colours? Well, there is black, nearly-black and night shade. ??? There is nude, taupe, sheer, opaque, beige and neutral. Really?

And let's not even get into how this product combines two of the worst words in the English language.

And look what I found: For all those men out there dying to wear hose, there are mannyhose.

You're welcome.

And just as a little, rather LARGE P.S.: One of the Board of Directors at yet a different Christmas party (in which I also wore hose--see how I worked that in?) left his credit card at the bar and picked up the entire tab. For about fifty people. That is something I would like to be able to do just once in my life. Just once.