Everyone has stuff they hate so much they wish they had their own personal Room 101 to dump them into. The trouble is as I get older I seem to get less and less
tolerant and my Room 101 will soon need an extension to make room for things I would banish if only I could.
Back in August 2013 I wrote a blog post listing some of the things I would get rid of. This (long) list included cheese, fog, school letters and the jumped up dictators I have met posing as queue directors at McDonalds.
This exercise appeased me for a while but after a particularly difficult experience this week I feel I must open the chute to my room and add another item.
Tights.
Yes, it might sound pathetic but after an entire day of grappling with some exceptionally uncomfortable nylon tights (nude) I feel for my own sanity I have to delete them from the inbox of my life.
Let me explain.
It was my Granny's funeral last week and I had decided to wear a dress which is unusual for me in winter because I've never been big fan of tights, knitted or nylon so tend to only wear frocks in flip-flop weather.
It doesn't help that I am 5ft 3 inches and quite rotund in the waistline area. Jeans, maxi dresses and tights are not really designed for people of my height and shape.
Anyway, needs must so I spent ages at the tights rack poring over the varying types - intelligent ones which apparently keep you warm & cool at the same time, bottom lifting, glossy, matt, patterned, body shaping.... the list was endless.
Since I am overly blessed in the belly area I went for body shaping, carefully choosing "medium" using the height/weight/dress size guide on the back.
What can I tell you - when unpacked on the morning of the funeral I thought I had picked up my 8-year-old's tights by mistake. They fit snugly round my wrist- I knew they were going to bite my belly like a rapid dog.
But with no time to buy more I had to drag them on over the silky body shaping undergarments I was wearing, with the idea that two body shaping items worn together should in theory convert my flabby midsection into something more resembling a supermodel's midriff.
I was wrong. Shiny tight tights vs shiny tight body-shaping thingy equals tights which only wanted to go one way - down.
Walking to the car I was yanking them up, holding them with one hand and wondering whether to keep my spare change and mobile phone in the gusset as there was so much space there.
Arriving at the crematorium I headed for the vestry and thinking I was alone, hauled up my dress to give the tights which were now almost at knee level a proper heave-ho in the hope that if I could get them over my stomach they might stay there, trapped by the mound of fat underneath. Unfortunately I was not as alone as I thought. The passing crem assistant glanced at me and breezily commented:"Oh -bloody tights - mine do that all the time."
Diving crimson-faced into the toilet I had a genius idea. I unpoppered thestraight-jacket body shaper garment, pulled tights up and poppered the "body" up again. Within seconds of walking out the waistband of the tights was sitting low on my hips but at least I knew they would not drop to my ankles unexpectedly.
Dear Reader hence followed the most uncomfortable few hours of my life. Itchy, hot, tight and uncomfortable I could almost feel a yeast infection brewing "down below"
As soon as I got home I hurtled out of the car and ripped the offending items from my body with a huge sigh of relief and that is why I am insisting that tights be flung into the deepest, darkest recesses of Room 101.
tolerant and my Room 101 will soon need an extension to make room for things I would banish if only I could.
Back in August 2013 I wrote a blog post listing some of the things I would get rid of. This (long) list included cheese, fog, school letters and the jumped up dictators I have met posing as queue directors at McDonalds.
This exercise appeased me for a while but after a particularly difficult experience this week I feel I must open the chute to my room and add another item.
Tights.
Yes, it might sound pathetic but after an entire day of grappling with some exceptionally uncomfortable nylon tights (nude) I feel for my own sanity I have to delete them from the inbox of my life.
Let me explain.
It was my Granny's funeral last week and I had decided to wear a dress which is unusual for me in winter because I've never been big fan of tights, knitted or nylon so tend to only wear frocks in flip-flop weather.
 |
| A rare sighting of MADMUMOF7 in a dress. Note, no tights! |
Anyway, needs must so I spent ages at the tights rack poring over the varying types - intelligent ones which apparently keep you warm & cool at the same time, bottom lifting, glossy, matt, patterned, body shaping.... the list was endless.
Since I am overly blessed in the belly area I went for body shaping, carefully choosing "medium" using the height/weight/dress size guide on the back.
But with no time to buy more I had to drag them on over the silky body shaping undergarments I was wearing, with the idea that two body shaping items worn together should in theory convert my flabby midsection into something more resembling a supermodel's midriff.
I was wrong. Shiny tight tights vs shiny tight body-shaping thingy equals tights which only wanted to go one way - down.
Walking to the car I was yanking them up, holding them with one hand and wondering whether to keep my spare change and mobile phone in the gusset as there was so much space there.
Arriving at the crematorium I headed for the vestry and thinking I was alone, hauled up my dress to give the tights which were now almost at knee level a proper heave-ho in the hope that if I could get them over my stomach they might stay there, trapped by the mound of fat underneath. Unfortunately I was not as alone as I thought. The passing crem assistant glanced at me and breezily commented:"Oh -bloody tights - mine do that all the time."
Diving crimson-faced into the toilet I had a genius idea. I unpoppered the
Dear Reader hence followed the most uncomfortable few hours of my life. Itchy, hot, tight and uncomfortable I could almost feel a yeast infection brewing "down below"
As soon as I got home I hurtled out of the car and ripped the offending items from my body with a huge sigh of relief and that is why I am insisting that tights be flung into the deepest, darkest recesses of Room 101.