control-issues top in Just My Size nude
Last time I bought pantyhose, I accidentally got two pairs of control top. They were on sale.
I always buy hosiery two sizes too big because that way they’ll be sure to stretch all the way up to my waist. The basic difference between control top and not control top is that the control tops are about three sizes smaller, but in the panty area only. They give you “a slimmer look” by squeezing all your abdominal organs up towards your ribcage. I had forgotten about that when I accidentally bought two pairs of them because they were on sale.
The first pair, which I wore on Monday, was okay. Snug, but not bothersome. I wore the second pair yesterday. It was very, very snug. The wide, reinforced waistband rolled down into my own natural waistline, making me feel like a giant rubber band was cutting into my skin, constricting my veins and the other important tubes running through my torso.
I wanted to take the pantyhose off and throw them in the trash, but then again, I didn’t want my bare feet rubbing against the inside of my high-heeled loafers all day. Painfully constricted and desperate, I took the scissors from my desk drawer and cut into the sausage-casing-like nylon band above my navel. Whew. That felt better. Then I went back for another cut and then another, one at each oblique muscle.
If the pantyhose shredded or acquired leg-long runs, I’d know that God wanted me to throw them in the trash. But they didn’t. God just wants me to read sale-priced legwear packaging more carefully from now on.
