That Girl Moment #903: The Great Pantyhose Debacle.

Sunday morning.


everyone in my little community just knows and accepts that I am not exactly a morning person. And that for some reason, I can never operate on the time frame of the rest of the free world. After preaching once on Friday night and twice on Saturday, this little princess was doggone pooped out. So when my alarm, which just happens to be that classy song "Set the World on Fire" by miss Brit Nicole, went off at 9am Sunday morning, I decided I would rise and go to Jesus in five more minutes, please and thank you.


Um, at 945, Jesus came to me. I woke up for no other reason than that God decided he did want me in His house and awakened me from my EPIC COMA (forty-) five more minutes in order to get my act together so that I might barely make it to church in time...

I ran around all frantic-like for several minutes and looking back, I made the crucial right decision to have curly straight-from-the-shower hair instead of the alternative, which involves more teasing and hairspray than two Texan debutantes would use combined.

I only really had one outfit to wear, a yellow dress, so I put it on. I hemmed and hawed about whether to hit the dusty trail sans pantyhose.

{Rewind the tape to That Girl in Wal-Mart:
"I think I will get the more expensive ones this time." Compared, of course, to the three pairs in a box phenomenon for which I am known. So I got the more expensive pair. whyyyy?}


I put on the pantyhose, and barely got them pulled up. AFter all, I think all the ladies KNOW that putting on a pair of control tops is the absolute 'DAY-BIL' (that's devil for all of you who haven't seen the Waterboy). It reminds me of what I saw one time when I went to a pig wrestling contest.

*shudders*

So I didn't get them all the way up exactly, meaning I still had to start at my ankles and hike them up some more, but what better activity is there to do in the car on a long gravel country road? So I got in my car, got on to the County Road, and began the pantyhose polka.

That is, until the faithful moment.

When my expensive only comes with one pair pantyhose decided to bite the dust. One faithful pull and my fingers (without nails, mind you--i chew them so that's not the reason) went right through those wretched woven fibers.

grr.

and I know that all of you extremely polite bloggerotsky would never, ever suggest that perhaps I should have been more careful, or heck, maybe I shouldn't have been tugging them so hard while sitting down in a motor vehicle, or even, maybe it's time to visit Marla at Weight Watchers...

right?


right.


So That girl is left with a choice and time is ticking away quickly before she is to be on the platform leading worship. The run is so bad that she can't disguise it unless she can track down Rumpilstilskin in the next ten minutes, so she makes a choice.


I couldn't get the pantyhose off without pulling over, which would waste precious time, and I figured, hey, I have put pantyhose ON in the car before (ahem), why couldn't I just pull them off?


So I used the hole from the wardrobe malfunction I had just experienced to begin ripping those bad boys off. I pulled downward and those expensive hose ripped completely apart! Then on the the other side, which was slightly more difficult as there was not yet a hole. I just kept pulling and after enduring a slight amount of pain, it dawned on me.

By IT, I mean the best idea I ever had since I handed that baby back sheer seconds before he had a massive spit up episode one time.


I decided since these danged control tops were ever so handsomely priced, I would use them to my advantage. Iripped off the pantyhose below the thigh, and VIOLA!

a nice new girdle.


I'm like Macgyver here people.


By the way, I made it to church service with five minutes to spare looking more svelte than usual.