Did you ever...

They look so innocent...

So I went to buy a dress. I was in Miss Selfridge and they had these beautiful  body con style frocks. They didn't have my size though so I figured I could probably squeeze into the size down. I grabbed it off the rail and went to try it on.  So take off clothes, take dress off hanger and pull it over my head. It's feeling pretty tight. I reef it down over my bum. Ugh! I don't even need to look in the mirror, this thing is cutting off my circulation it's so tight.

So I take it off. Or at least I try to take it off. I pull it up and get it as far as my chest. Have to get one arm out now. I try and pull the strap down so I can get arm out. Not working. Try again and yes! One arm is out. But I am now in a funny position and cannot use my right arm to get my left arm out, if you know what I mean. I try to get other arm back in and go some other way about this but I'm stuck. I pull really hard and hit my arm off the wall. These fitting rooms are so way too cramped. I pull again, and again and again. It's going no where. So the dress is kind of half around my head, I'm pretty much blind and my arms are of no use to me. I take deep breaths. Then try really slowly to pull my arm out. But it doesn't move.

So I pull really hard, losing my temper now. I twist myself around and try and grab something but my arms just can't get around to where I need them. Ok, starting to panic now. I'm thinking I might be stuck in this dress forever. I'll have to call the girl in and she'll have to cut me out with a scissors and she'll see my grey pennys knickers and I'll be the story to tell everyone who comes in to the shop. I tug and tug, I'm sweating now. I start to cry. I'm stuck. I'm stuck, I'm never getting out. I bang my head off the mirror. Ouch! Come on, you stupid fucking, bloody, dress! AHHHH! I slide to the ground. I'll have to call the girl. Oh, the shame. No! I can't. I won't. I don't believe in God, but Jesus if you're up there get me out of this poxy dress! Please, I'll go to Mass every week for the rest of my life , I swear, please! This one favour, prove to me you exist, come on! I know there are people way more deserving of your love but they're not me! Please?

Right, I'm going again. I'm doing it this time if it kills me. I get up. I tug and tug, rrrrip, yeah, I heard it but I don't care. I yank the thing. I pull and tug and grab and swish and swirl and do the funky chicken, anything to get this bloody- Oh my god! It's over my head. It's coming off, it's coming off. It's off! Oh my god! Its off! The relief! Oh, sweet mother of divine lord! Jesus, Mary and all the saints! Hurray! I collapse in a heap in the change room.

My take on tights.

Nutin' sexier than a burd with tights half way downs 'er legs, wha?

I can't wait for Spring so I can throw all my tights away and go bare legged again. Right now, it's bloody freezing so tights are a staple but I have so many issues with them. The crotch never stays put, it's always slowly slipping down as you walk to wherever so you have to do a quick scan for passersby before reefing them back up. The waist always rolls down on them so if you're wearing anything remotely figure hugging you look like you're carrying a baby sized hula hoop around your waist. They are nearly always too tight so they dig into your stomach causing all sorts of mad stuff to happen to your insides - anyone else get tights related indigestion?  Tights are singularly the most unsexy item of clothing ever invented, nothing gets me out of the mood quicker than the word gusset.  But the most annoying thing I have found about tights is how they make your arse itch like mad! Seriously, what's that about? My Jesus, it is so irritating. You're sitting there in your class, office, whatever and feel it coming on. You so desperately want to stick your hand down the back of your knickers and rummage around like a pre-school kid with a bad dose of thread worms. Instead you squirm inconspicuously in your chair, shifting from one arse cheek to the other, letting a bit of cool air at your bum in the hope that the urge will leave you. Usually I end up excusing myself and legging it to the toilets for a good oul scratch. I could spend five minutes scratching before I'm satisfied. Ahhhh, the relief! Once I even  pulled the feckers off and stuffed them in the bin. I couldn't deal with that itchy sensation any more. Maybe that's what we should all do - shove the offending articles in the bin! Ditch the tights! Free the itchy arses! Anyone else with me?