I got new chubbtastic tights from We Love Color . I haven’t worn tights since I was 11. Or pantyhose since I was 19. And I hated them both. But hey, these babies were bright red and likely made of some chemical-fabric miracle that would not make me relive the bound misery of my youth. Plus, they were opaque enough I could wear shorter skirts again and not stress about keeping my thighs together. My thighs hate each other, I don’t think it’s right for me to force them into cohabitation.
But you know what? As awesome as these tights were…you still had to put them on the same way as always. For me that means rolled back half naked on the bed with my ass in the air trying to squeeze the wrinkled loop down my leg and past my thighs. Grunting, calling out to no one, “I don’t understand! Are they twisted? Did I put them on backwards???”
This is why I love my daughter. She’s six.
She came to my bedroom door and sighed.
“No one should see this,” she said.
She closed the door behind her, climbed up on the bed, and wordlessly began tugging away with me.
We got those suckers on. They looked great.
|This ain’t LE’s first rodeo.|