I wore a black dress to Mama's funeral and decided I needed black pantyhose to go with it. Considering it's July in Florida, which means it's hotter than Hell's hinges outside, I really don't know what I was thinking besides the fact that I've always been told ladies are supposed to wear them with dresses.
For the record, I hate pantyhose. Doesn't matter if I'm skinny or fat, I always struggle putting them on. Always have.
Anyway, that morning, I grabbed a pair and as I sat down to put them on, I muttered, "I'm about to do battle, boys."
Daniel asked, "Battle? With who?"
Me: "With these pantyhose."
Daniel: "With...(blinks in disbelief) pantyhose??"
Me: "I know they're an inanimate object but you'd never know it considering the fight they put up when I attempt to put them on. You've got to get them on straight, without bunching or twisting, and you've gotta get them up without tearing a hole in them, which is really difficult to do."
Daniel: "Oh. I see."
Me: "You know, it's not really a battle so much as it is a war. I'm waging war on these pantyhose."
Daniel (bemused): "War, eh? Okay..." (he sits down to watch the spectacle)
Christopher: (hasn't said a word, just watching in amusement)
Me: (struggling... a few choice words are uttered... curse inventor of pantyhose... :screech: ... 15 sweaty minutes later I throw them across the room)
Daniel (smirking): "So... who won?"
Me: "Smarty pants. You should try putting on a pair some time!"
Daniel (snickering): "Yeah, after watching that, I'll pass. You got your butt kicked, Mom. I'm pretty sure you lost the battle and the war."
