The Tights Debacle: When fashion failed me

Getting dressed is usually more of a 30 minute frenzy instead of a quick morning routine. It usually includes lots of squeezing into things, flying garments, squeezing out of things, shoe changes, jacket changes, and the occasional existential crisis. You know, normal stuff.

This morning was no different. As I was struggling to yank a pair of black sweater tights up without tearing them, I had a sudden flashback to a third grade experience that I’ve always secretly referred to as The Tights Debacle.

Because 7-year-old me was the same fashionably sensitive soul I am today, I was very particular about the way I looked. I was so devoted to this that I wrote a weekly schedule that planned out daily hairstyles; imagine French braids on Monday and part-up-part-down look on Tuesday, that sort of thing.

While I can’t remember the exact outfit I was wearing on this particular day, I vividly remember my black sweater tights. I was a strong supporter of sweater tights because not only did they let me wear my favorite dresses all year round, they also allowed for full participation in recess activities without the fear of an “I see London, I see France” incident.

That particular day though, my tights were failing me.

No matter how high I hoisted them up, they kept slipping down. Every time I would stretch them higher than the last, trying to get them to stick in one spot for even a few minutes. I had no luck.

Beating all the boys in gym class dodgeball was not easy when I only had one hand to demolish the patriarchy.

I was so upset that my clothes, which usually seemed to have my back, were undermining me in this way. Sometime after lunch, I decided enough was enough and snuck to the bathroom to investigate this traitor pair of tights.

Once safely inside a stall, I discovered the culprit wasn’t my tights after all, but my silky cheetah pajama shorts I’d worn the night before. Apparently my sleep-deprived adolescent brain had left them on while getting dressed that morning.

Obviously I was mortified.Who forgets to take off their pajamas before getting dressed? Imagine what the kids would say about me. My third grade reputation would have been in ruins.

And of course I couldn’t take them off because then I would have to carry my silky secret out of the bathroom without any effective method of hiding them.

So I did what any self-respecting 7-year-old would do in my position and I tucked them back into my tights and spent the rest of the day with one hand on my waistband. I kept this secret from both my friends and family, not taking off the shorts until I was in the privacy of my room a long school day later.

Thankfully this morning I was able to safely remove my pajamas before getting dressed and it has been a fairly uneventful day in the tights-hauling department.

Now that I’ve finally confessed this secret to you, all I can think about is finding another silky cheetah-print pajama set and this time wearing the shorts over my sweater tights.

I hope third grade me would like that 21-year-old me is honoring and innovating her mistakes. She would also probably remind all of you that sometimes it doesn’t hurt to double check that you remembered to remove your pajamas before getting dressed.


That feeling when you get home and finally get to take off the silk pj shorts that have been making your tights fall down all day. 

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