The Saga of the Traveling Pants

Or, should I say traveling "hose".

Black. Tight. Full length. And no, there's nothing sexy about them, despite what this picture may imply:



Yes, these are my new accessory, Maternity Compression Hose.

And I LOOAATHE them.

Ok, so I know I should be grateful that there are such things and that my veins will be tightly compressed for the next three months and that we have access to such fabulous medical technology.

Unfortunately, these are not the lines along which my thoughts travel as I battle my hose each morning.

First, they are almost IMPOSSIBLE to get on! If you've ever tried, you know what I mean. It's like trying to pull on a second skin that won't quite go over your ankles or heels, requires endless tugging and pulling and is about 12 inches too short. And all the while you are painfully aware that if you tug too hard you will put a hole or a run in your very pricey stockings. If you'd like more of a mental picture, imagine that one has to wear big rubber gloves to do this (so as to avoid fingernail pulls). Yea, did I mention it was sexy?

Secondly, by the time I'm finished fighting with my hose to get them on, I'm usually late for work, sweating profusely, and in a foul mood. All I can say is, poor Andre.

(He is VERY sympathetic, by the way)

Then, by the time I've arrived at work, climbed the stairs to my office and situated my by now rather heavy self (yes I have been steadily putting on the pounds!), I begin to notice that things aren't quite where they used to be. In the stocking department that is. I hastily make my way to the ladies room, clutching my rubber gloves, only to discover that yes, gravity has taken it's toll and the hose have already traveled downwards until the crotch is now halfway to my knees, taking my jeans with them. Embarrassing, yes. And impossible to walk in... I'm reduced to waddling.

So I spend the next 10 minutes, rubber gloves in place, "gently easing the hose upwards" (as the instructions put it) until I'm once more reduced to a swearing, oops, I mean sweating, mass of frustration!!

Oh, and did I mention that the building I work in is not centrally heated, is big and old and drafty and just venturing out into the hallway requires one to put on a coat. So you can imagine me in the frigid bathroom, disrobing to attend to my stockings while freezing off any exposed parts!!

At least the struggle with my hose causes me to end up warmer than when I started. There's always a silver lining if you're willing to look hard enough, I guess. I must say, this one's MICROSCOPIC!!

Thanks for reading my rant. Clearly I need to be practicing patience and a grateful heart...so be praying :)