When in family court, while I was losing, I still managed to not only sniffle my way out of the courtroom, but call and entertain my girlfriend with my tale of woe, coupled with how my tights lost their elastic band in the middle of the proceedings. I stood there, next to my Big Bad Dog legal beagal, sneaking a hand towards my posterier to yank up my tights, in the manner one usually witnesses on Dress Up Day in Kindergarten.

Naturally, I’d considered just how that would look to the packed courtroom I was not facing (but my backside was) and honestly? In this instance, desperation trumped ladylike behavoir. The snickering behind my could have either been towards my Ex’s lackluster pity party pleading to the judge, or, the good stiff yank I gave to the tights. I’d love to say that they laughed at him; but as he was clearly winning, on this one particular point, my guess is, they were laughing at me.

I’m not big on tights anyway; but I hate hose. If you don’t shave your legs, they feel funny. And they’re itchy. If you do shave, and apply lotion, they don’t sit well, adhere to your thighs all twisted up, and they’re terribly uncomfortable all day long. Plus also? You can’t get them down, when you finally finally get a potty break. For those of you without children, you don’t know this feeling - but trust me on this one - when you have to go, there really is no fooling around time before it can Get Ugly.

I know this. Very well. I wore hose the other day, simply for the control toppyness that managed to suck in enough things to a, locate some form of a wasit, and b, to slip into the skirt I had on, without unsightly bumbs (well, okay, mostly so the damn zipper would actually grip itself). I’d just shaved, so of course, they didn’t go on correctly (and spare me the whole User Error issues - I know how to put them on!), they were itchy, and I think seriously, if you want to torture out answers from possible terrorist cults, make them wear hose for a couple hours, deny them access to a loo while plying them with six gallons of water, and then, put them in three inch heels, and watch them race each other for the bath, fighting to keep their knees together. I hardly made it in time to do the Shit They’re Stuck On Me dance, lock the door, and then exhale as the additional pressure from the slimming top really makes having a camel bladder impossible.

I’ve decided, therefore, that hose are not for me. It’s considered a luxury anyway; the price of milk has now eaten into any funds I might have spent on hose or tights, as clearly I cannot give up on my precious shampoo/conditioner budget, for something that chokes my thighs to within an inch of their lives.

Perhaps, then, I’ll stick with my original plan - once a week, in the winter, I’ll shave my legs, and go naked legs to work, with a skirt on; it’s so cold, I’m lucky if the shave job lasts from the garage door to the cardoor, so I’ll don slacks for the rest of the week. Add cutie shoes, and even the palest, stubbly legs look longer, sexier, and dressier.

And, then, being so financially savvy, I can save the dough I would have spent on the sheerest of leg coverings, and use it for something important - like Ben and Jerry’s.