A few years ago, I was fresh out of law school and had just passed the bar exam. I was also unemployed. On top of all of that, my grandma had been sick and in the hospital for a couple of weeks. It wasn't the best time of my life.
I had gone on a few job interviews but really wanted to spruce up my resume. I promptly made an appointment with my law school's career counselor. It was set early on a Wednesday morning. Long story short, I ended up at the hospital with my grandma into the wee hours of that Wednesday morning. I went back home, got a couple hours of shut eye, and then had to get up and go to my career meeting. I was stressed, tired, and frazzled. Not the best combination, but I needed the help with my resume and decided that I should keep the meeting.
As I was getting ready, I realized that I was almost totally out of black tights. It was freezing cold out, but my most professional looking suit was a skirt suit. I was too tired to find a pants option, so I decided to just pull out a pair of tights, throw on the suit, and go with it. Because what could go wrong?
After getting dressed, I hopped into my car and drove the 20 minutes to my law school. The law school that I went to is in the city and has limited parking. The best parking options are on the street, but you are lucky to get a parking spot that is less than a 5-minute walk. At -20 degrees, even a 5-minute walk can be brutal.
It was a particularly cool and windy morning, so I decided to drive around the blocks a few times to see if I could manage to snag a spot close to the school's main entrance. As my terrible luck would have it, the closest I could get was four whole blocks away. I expertly parallel parked my car and braved the elements for my walk into school.
Here's where the story gets a little interesting. As I begin walking towards school, I begin to feel the top of my tights creep down my stomach. It was just a little slip and slide but definitely noticeable. The faster I walked, the more I noticed the tights slipping around. Damn, I thought. I must have grabbed a pair of tights where the elastic at the top was wearing out. I made a mental note to stop in the restroom before my meeting to readjust myself.
As I got closer to the school, I was getting panicked about my tight situation. They were no longer on my stomach, and they weren't even covering my belly button. Nope. The only thing that was holding up these tights was my rear end. But my gluteus was proving to be no match for the slippery nylon as I could feel the tights moving down my rump.
Luckily I was extremely close to the school entrance, and there was a restroom right inside the front door. I ran a few steps and dashed into the restroom. As I got into a stall, I assessed my situation. The tights weren't as far down my butt as I had originally thought, but the elastic was completely gone from the top. At first I thought about ditching the tights, but it had been a few days since my last leg shave. As long as I could get through the meeting I thought I'd be fine. And the tights weren't going to fall off while I was sitting down.
I made it through my meeting just fine. My resume was polished up and shiny as a whistle. I was feeling empowered and ready to attack my job search with gusto. But first, I needed to once again brave the cold Minnesota air and get to my car.
I walked the first block without noticing much movement from the tights. Everything seemed kosher. I can totally make this, I thought. The second block proved more difficult as I could feel the tights moving. At this point, they were basically riding right along the largest peak of my ass. I thought if I walked with my butt sticking way out, then maybe the tights would stay where the were. Gravity, right?
Wrong. At the start of the third block I could see my car pretty far in the distance and my tights were no longer around my ass. They were hitting at my upper thighs and had a mind of their own. These tights wanted off my body. I spread my legs out real wide and started walking like one of those green army men from Toy Story. I was definitely attracting some attention from passing cars, bikers, and those crazy St. Paulites who love to walk in the winter.
But I was so close to my car, I just couldn't give up. And even if I wanted to give up…where would I go. I couldn't just take my tights off in the middle of the street. No, my only option was to make it to my car.
My wide-legged walk worked for about half of the third block. By the second half, the tights had beaten my walking game and were now inching down my thighs with each step. It was getting embarrassing. My skirt was about an inch above my knee, so by my calculations I only had another inch before the top band of my tights was actually below my skirt line.
To make matters worse there were two women walking towards me with a dog. They were going to see all of my embarrassment. Then I turned around and a couple blocks back I saw a guy jogging towards me. Great. An audience just when I need it most.
With my tights just an inch above my skirt line, I make a crucial decision to start running towards my car like a maniac. I figured that maybe my speed could beat the tights' speed. So, I run. In 3-inch heels and a tight skirt. It wasn't pretty. By the end of the third block, my tights are around my knees. I am just a couple of feet from the ladies with the dog, a few feet from the jogger, and many more feet to my car. But I keep running. I was committed.
As I start up the fourth block, there was no denying what had happened. My tights were now around my ankles like shackles holding my feet together. I couldn't really run in full strides due to the tightness of my skirt, the height of my heels, and now the tights around my ankles. The ladies with the dog stopped to gape. I think they thought I had been attacked. The jogging man slowed down as he passed me and asked if I needed help? Sir, I thought, I'm an unemployed law school graduate who is standing on the sidewalk in the middle of winter with her tights around her ankles. So, yes, clearly I could use some assistance.
I stopped running when I was about two car lengths away from my vehicle. I slowly walked the rest of the way, all of that vim and vigor from my meeting completely washed out of me. This is an important lesson for a woman in the workplace: always check your tight bands for elasticity.
After getting dressed, I hopped into my car and drove the 20 minutes to my law school. The law school that I went to is in the city and has limited parking. The best parking options are on the street, but you are lucky to get a parking spot that is less than a 5-minute walk. At -20 degrees, even a 5-minute walk can be brutal.
It was a particularly cool and windy morning, so I decided to drive around the blocks a few times to see if I could manage to snag a spot close to the school's main entrance. As my terrible luck would have it, the closest I could get was four whole blocks away. I expertly parallel parked my car and braved the elements for my walk into school.
Here's where the story gets a little interesting. As I begin walking towards school, I begin to feel the top of my tights creep down my stomach. It was just a little slip and slide but definitely noticeable. The faster I walked, the more I noticed the tights slipping around. Damn, I thought. I must have grabbed a pair of tights where the elastic at the top was wearing out. I made a mental note to stop in the restroom before my meeting to readjust myself.
As I got closer to the school, I was getting panicked about my tight situation. They were no longer on my stomach, and they weren't even covering my belly button. Nope. The only thing that was holding up these tights was my rear end. But my gluteus was proving to be no match for the slippery nylon as I could feel the tights moving down my rump.
Luckily I was extremely close to the school entrance, and there was a restroom right inside the front door. I ran a few steps and dashed into the restroom. As I got into a stall, I assessed my situation. The tights weren't as far down my butt as I had originally thought, but the elastic was completely gone from the top. At first I thought about ditching the tights, but it had been a few days since my last leg shave. As long as I could get through the meeting I thought I'd be fine. And the tights weren't going to fall off while I was sitting down.
I made it through my meeting just fine. My resume was polished up and shiny as a whistle. I was feeling empowered and ready to attack my job search with gusto. But first, I needed to once again brave the cold Minnesota air and get to my car.
I walked the first block without noticing much movement from the tights. Everything seemed kosher. I can totally make this, I thought. The second block proved more difficult as I could feel the tights moving. At this point, they were basically riding right along the largest peak of my ass. I thought if I walked with my butt sticking way out, then maybe the tights would stay where the were. Gravity, right?
Wrong. At the start of the third block I could see my car pretty far in the distance and my tights were no longer around my ass. They were hitting at my upper thighs and had a mind of their own. These tights wanted off my body. I spread my legs out real wide and started walking like one of those green army men from Toy Story. I was definitely attracting some attention from passing cars, bikers, and those crazy St. Paulites who love to walk in the winter.
But I was so close to my car, I just couldn't give up. And even if I wanted to give up…where would I go. I couldn't just take my tights off in the middle of the street. No, my only option was to make it to my car.
My wide-legged walk worked for about half of the third block. By the second half, the tights had beaten my walking game and were now inching down my thighs with each step. It was getting embarrassing. My skirt was about an inch above my knee, so by my calculations I only had another inch before the top band of my tights was actually below my skirt line.
To make matters worse there were two women walking towards me with a dog. They were going to see all of my embarrassment. Then I turned around and a couple blocks back I saw a guy jogging towards me. Great. An audience just when I need it most.
With my tights just an inch above my skirt line, I make a crucial decision to start running towards my car like a maniac. I figured that maybe my speed could beat the tights' speed. So, I run. In 3-inch heels and a tight skirt. It wasn't pretty. By the end of the third block, my tights are around my knees. I am just a couple of feet from the ladies with the dog, a few feet from the jogger, and many more feet to my car. But I keep running. I was committed.
As I start up the fourth block, there was no denying what had happened. My tights were now around my ankles like shackles holding my feet together. I couldn't really run in full strides due to the tightness of my skirt, the height of my heels, and now the tights around my ankles. The ladies with the dog stopped to gape. I think they thought I had been attacked. The jogging man slowed down as he passed me and asked if I needed help? Sir, I thought, I'm an unemployed law school graduate who is standing on the sidewalk in the middle of winter with her tights around her ankles. So, yes, clearly I could use some assistance.
I stopped running when I was about two car lengths away from my vehicle. I slowly walked the rest of the way, all of that vim and vigor from my meeting completely washed out of me. This is an important lesson for a woman in the workplace: always check your tight bands for elasticity.
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