why I hate hosiery

Hosiery. Hose. Who ever even thought to come up with such a name? No matter how you say it, even when its in the correct context, it sounds strange. But back to the title. Why I hate hosiery: It all goes back to childhood, doesn't it ladies? I have distinct memories of my mother pulling on my white tights to go with my embroidered dress and buckled mary jane's. After she did, I would spend a good 15 minutes squirming and whining because the sew line was underneath my toes and not on top of them. I'd then take the matter into my own hands and no matter how much twisting and pulling I did after the fact, the sew line would inevitably fall underneath--and I would huff and puff in the land of discomfort for the entire church service. By the end of the morning, I would have that dreaded space in-between my thighs where the tights have started creeping towards my ankles.

As I got older, tights were replaced with hose. I also have specific memories of fights with my mother over whether I have to wear hose or not. "It's the dead of winter!! It will look strange if you don't have them on!" I can just see the thought cloud now, with other mothers thinking "Oh dear. Her mother doesn't know how to dress her. Poor thing..." Thus, it was a childhood full of tights and hose-wearing, squirming, and huffing and puffing.

Then, there is always the dreaded rip or tear in the hose. They just get worse. Unless you know the greatest mom trick in the world. Just a little clear finger-nail polish on the tear, right? Sometimes. Other times, you just end up with a clumpy hose spot that sticks to your leg when its all said and done.

I wish I could say that I grew out of this phase and am now much more willing to endure the discomfort to "go with the social flow", but I am not. I avoid hose whenever possible. And now tights are back in. I'm still trying to adjust.