The Great Pantyhose Experiment

I love everything about summer, except my left leg. When I was pregnant with my youngest child, a twisted, blue varicose vein popped out on the side of my leg and never left. There is a procedure available to zap such veins with a laser (ouch), but having heard a few vascular horror stories, I am not inclined to subject my life, or limb to such an experience. So, after years of experimental remedies, a light bulb finally went off.

As a subscriber to the theory that necessity is the mother of invention, or temporary insanity as the case may be, a vision of pantyhose flashed before me. I hadn’t given pantyhose a thought since their fashion demise somewhere around the turn of this century. Back in the day I had quite a collection of stockings that came encased in little eggs. My kids were fascinated with these egg capsules, and would spend hours transforming them into objets d’art.

Anxious to begin my experiment, I drove to the drugstore to buy a pair of sheer to waist hose. After searching the aisles I finally found the stocking display; it had been banished to a dark corner of the store beside some discarded pet supplies. I was disappointed to discover that the familiar plastic egg had been now replaced by a cardboard package that was so boring, it had absolutely no potential for an afterlife.

The next day I wore the hose with my bathing suit, and I was off to the beach. I was thrilled with the results! There were no stares, or eye rolls as I walked from one end the beach to the other.My legs never looked better. In fact, unless someone physically touched my legs, no one would be the wiser. Aside from camouflaging my varicosity, there were other benefits such as; no bug bites, no jelly fish stings, or burning my feet on the hot sand. Not to mention my legs were tanning right through the stockings.

My pantyhose at the beach study marched on through the summer with great success; until my waterloo at the water park. I figured if my experiment worked for the beach, my hose would be perfect for the water park. So I joined my daughter, and four-year old grandson for a day of fun in the sun at a place called Water Wizz. I had a great time floating with my grandson down the lazy river, under the raining mushrooms, across alligator ally, and tumbling about in a wave pool so massive there was an undertow.

Around noon we returned to our table under a ginormous umbrella to enjoy our lunch. Just as I was about to take a bite of my turkey wrap, grandson tuned to me and asked, “why are you wearing stockings Nina?”. ” So my veins won’t fall out.”, I jokingly replied. Surprised that a four-year old would even notice, or care about my leg wear, I thought to myself, boy this kid is really observant. Of course, I had no idea that the little guy had been a witness to my pantyhose Armageddon. Glancing down at my legs, I was horrified to discover that the backs of both legs were in tatters, shredded from the heels up. Holy pantyhose! Totally embarrassed, I raced off to the bathhouse to remove them. I was sooo…disappointed; my pantyhose experiment was doomed.

Had I worn my water shoes, I may have prevented this level of destruction, but as usual vanity got the best of me. I decided not to wear the shoes to the park because they were just too darn ugly; as opposed to massive vertical runs up my legs which were far more attractive??!!

Some people can pull off the torn stocking look, unfortunately I am not a card-carrying member of this club.

Results of my experiment: pantyhose are a useful blast from the past. They hide your leg sins, and can even make you feel light on your feet. However, I do see a need for a warning label on the package. “WARNING! WEARING PANTYHOSE TO WATER PARKS MAY CAUSE EPISODES OF SERIOUS EMBARRASSMENT”. I dare you to try my experiment. I double dare you.