of tights and tight situations

The last two weeks have gotten away from me again! That wasn't planned. It's been busy at work, and I've done overtime nearly every day this month. But that's okay! Gotta save up those comp hours for honeymoon, right?

So I just want to talk about how much I love and adore tights. I was first introduced to sweater tights when I moved to Chicago, wearing them for insulation under my jeans. (Sweater tights are basically like long underwear that you don't mind other people seeing.) The sweater tights were brown and pink striped a la Wicked Witch of the East, and I actually wore them for Halloween this year. But aside from my witch tights, I also have just normal solid tights in black, brown, fuschia, teal, patterns, etc. I mean, my tights drawer is getting a little out of control. In an awesome way.

My former colleagues did not quite appreciate my great taste in legwear, but luckily I've moved into a much more artsy office. It's funny, but business-types really are different from writer/designer-types. My epiphany moment was when I was complimented on my outfit of knee-length maroon skirt, grey tights, black shirt and sweater -- the same outfit which had prompted several former colleagues to inform me that I looked like a grandma. I don't know what that really means about the way my office dresses, but we definitely don't look like an off-shoot of Joseph A. Brooks Brothers of Benetton. (Not that we can afford to shop at those places anyway...)

An upside to living in DC is that my tights-flaunting time frame has expanded considerably from approximately three weeks in the fall and two weeks in the "spring" aka June. Chicago gets cold so quickly that, most of the time, my tights were hidden under a pant leg. But here, it's been perfect tights weather since September! Months and months of tights!

But the downside to sheathing one's legs in transparent stretchy material is that the stuf catches on absolutely everything. I was quite distraught this morning when my new comfy aubergine tights (from Target!) snagged on THE BOTTOM OF MY DESK WTF. After a brief flurry of consultation with Internet and colleagues, I went out during lunch to buy an emergency bottle of clear nail polish.

This is what transpired after I huffed and puffed back into the office. To be fair, I also bought an empanada at the DC Holiday Market, so part of it was me trying to walk and eat at the same time. Def not b/c I haven't gone to the gym since I moved from Chicago. But I digress.

Me [to our intern]: Greg, can you open this for me?
Greg: Sure. What is it?
Me: Nail polish.
Greg [looking perplexed, but too polite to ask]: Uhh okay. [tries unsuccessfully to get the cap off] I don't know, I think it's stuck or something.
Me: Right. Which is why I asked you to open it.
Greg [doubtfully looking at the nail polish]: I think you need to run it under hot water or bang it on something.
Me: Um. It's okay, thanks for trying. [suddenly realizing that Greg must think I'm a huge slacker for having nail polish at work] Oh! This isn't for my nails. I'm not giving myself a manicure over here! What! Ha! I need it for my tights.
Greg: Oh. Right. [very awkward pause] What are tights?
Hilary (my amazing awesome and very well-dressed work spouse): Tights. Stockings. You know. Hosiery. Come on, you know what tights are.
Greg: Well, no, actually, I don't.
Me: [still trying convince him of my non-slackerly-ness] NAIL POLISH FIX TIGHTS.
Greg: You know, I'm going to just go back to writing this essay...

Our intern is learning a lot. I'm sure this is something he will look back with fondness, perhaps chuckle over how completely sane and normal his co-workers were.