I remember the days when pulling on pantyhose was very similar to defusing a bomb – I knew that one wrong move meant a snag or a run.
So I would file my nails before pulling the pantyhose out of their package, and then do everything in my power not to snag the material. Because a snag meant a run, and a run was like pantyhose cancer and had to be stopped, and that meant finger nail polish or hairspray. Inevitably, I would only have red fingernail polish, which would then make it look like my leg was cut open and bleeding.[quote button_text=”Tweet the Quote”]After a while the constant runs were causing me to be bankrupt, so I finally went to the L’eggs brand that were practically rubber.[/quote] I mean these suckers could have been used to put Apollo 13 back together.
The first challenge was getting the pantyhose out of a silver egg with rough edges which often meant a snag before they were even removed. Then I had to practice Lamaze breathing as I worked to pull the rubber up each leg, finally snapping the waistband in a way that created relief because it was over but bruising where the snap occurred. I tried to do this before applying make-up since the sweat I worked up would usually remove it.
So pantyhose and I didn’t have an easy relationship, but I loved them nonetheless. Here are 5 reasons that I miss my L’eggs:
- They kept things tight. There were no panty lines and very little jiggling when I had to jump around. Not that I was a professional clogger, but I’ve always been a little hyperactive and seem to find a need to jump around a lot, and pantyhose kept things pulled together.
- They hid flaws. A broken vein was no problem – just darken the color of your pantyhose. I remember standing in stores trying to decide if I was nude beige or suntan, and it often depended upon how bad the flaws on my legs looked. Either way, I knew the addition of pantyhose would lesson the flaw, much like those filters on cameras that were used in Glamour Shots.
- They made you look tan. My sister was famous for her pale skin, and her light-blue legs were often a source of humiliation as a teenager. Luckily, in our day, it was acceptable and encouraged to wear pantyhose with shorts. I remember seeing Linda with her sweet pale face, transparent decolletage, white arms, and super suntanned legs. While her appendages didn’t match, her legs looked hot.
- They kept boys from noticing my sweat marks at dances. I can’t imagine wearing the slinky halter dresses I wore in the 70’s without pantyhose. Underalls offered a panty option with no lines, and kept everything static when I started doing our infamous line dances in front of the boys. I was always concerned that they were looking at the sweat marks that started at my armpit and went all the way down the seam of the dress. Of course, knowing boys a little better now, I’m pretty sure they didn’t care about the sweat marks. The slinky halter dress minus a bra probably ensured their eyes were securely focused on one thing.
- I liked the eggs. Yes, I’m that weird. There was something about opening an egg and finding pantyhose that made me really happy. Perhaps it was years of pressure-filled Easter egg hunts when I never found enough eggs because I panicked. Or maybe it was the plastic eggs into which some cruel adult had placed a vegetable instead of jelly beans. This way, I could buy my egg and open it in the privacy of my bedroom and know exactly what was inside.
So, L’eggs, I miss you. And when you come back in style I will wear dresses again. The broken veins have gotten a little more plentiful over the past 40 years, so I would like to request a lavender color. Other than that, just be you. You are my favorite egg.