I don't frequently wear pantyhose. Never been much of a fan really; just couldn't ever really understand the utility of the nude ones. I did go through a black fishnet phase - which I'm kind of still in, to be honest, my feeling sort of being that if I'm going to go through the trouble of wearing them, better make them not just visible but impossible to ignore. This is by the way, the same approach I take with lipstick. I don't have time for barely-there, and to tell true, it just was never my style anyway.But recently, I had occasion to wear pantyhose. I was presenting at a conference and wearing a blazer. You kind of can't wear a blazer without wearing pantyhose. It's like the PB without the J. Plus, I figured it'd make me feel more professional.
I pulled on my black dress and struggled with the the control-top sand-colored pantyhose (and, by the way, I get their utility now that I need control-top. I TOTALLY GET IT) when Primo walked into my room. He did an old-school double take and then he stared at my legs. The look on his face was both perplexed and horrified.
"What," he ventured, "are you wearing?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, "You don't like this dress?"
"Not the dress," he pressed, "The other thing."
"These?" I asked, pointing to my legs, "These are pantyhose. You've never seen pantyhose?"
He scrutinized my face intently for a minute, trying to decide if I was joking, or if I'd gone totally out of my fucking mind.
"Why are you wearing that? What is it for?" He was waiting for a reasonable explanation.
I didn't really know myself, but I said something about "evening out the skin tone."
"But it looks exactly like your legs without them on," he observed.
"Sort of," I conceded, "Only, you know, polished."
He stood silently looking at me with his eyebrows raised for a few seconds. Then he said: "Mom. You look REALLY creepy." And he left.
I now suspect he suspects I'm a high-functioning lunatic. I guess I can never tell him about Spanx.
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