I don’t want to whinge. Really, I don’t.
But why the hell can’t someone, anyone, come up with a pair of stockings that are comfortable? I mean, it’s the 21st century. We’ve invented Paywave and gene sequencing and splayds (look it up). There are machines designed specifically for cleaning gutters. Gutters!!!
But today, I’m walking around with a cotton gusset that’s ranges somewhere between my lady garden and my knees. The choice I face is harder than deciding if Matthew Le Nevez was hotter in Offspring or Love Child (you’re right – Offspring). Do I keep chucking one leg out to the side and reefing them up until one of my stumpy nails rips through them? Or do I just keep waddling? Like a duck?
I’m pretty sure some people think I’ve wet myself and I’m just nonchalantly airing things out.
If I see one more stocking packet with one more model without even one little, tiny blip above her pantyhose waistband, I might go postal. I mean, how is it that I’m supposed to look like this:
But I look more like this: