knotting my knickers

Saturday night I was preparing myself to go to the Lotus World Music Festival downtown, a night of gaiety and wonderful music and dancing. I was having some wardrobe issues from the get go. I'd worn jeans and a sweater the night before--very comfortable and practical for a half outside/half inside event on a very coolish night. But I decided that on Saturday night I would dress up a little. In a little dress or something like that. And cowboy boots (why not?). And tights for warmth. But it took me awhile to get all of this together to my satisfaction because getting dressed up is not one of my strong points, and the partner and the son were getting antsy. I'd been getting ready for half an hour, they told me impatiently (including taking a bath and washing my hair and putting on some lipstick), both of them pacing through my personal space several times. Half an hour for crying out loud! How could anyone take a half an hour? "Just put something on," they said to me, "We're not going to a fashion show."

I realized that these men were hopelessly spoiled by my usual ability to make a quick exit by skipping the finer points of fashion and grooming. And now I was being completely ridiculous, in their opinion, and wasting time with my indecision and clothing struggles. I didn't bother to stop and explain to them that I knew women (and men) who didn't leave for the grocery store without more prep time than I had used that very night, and that they were damned lucky that I'm generally very low maintanance. They were stressing me out with their pacing to and fro and telling me they would be "waiting in the car" which I knew meant with the motor running. I made a final decision and threw on some clothes--my third or fourth attempt at something comfortable and warm enough and not itchy, and something a tiny bit special for my big night out.

Consequently, in my rush, I didn't stop to check for functionality in every part of my outfit, and by the time I got downtown and started walking around to the different music venues, I realized my major oversight. The elastic at the top of my tights had given up the ghost. The top of my tights, after walking half a block, was down near my crotch. A few more steps, and they'd be completely past the hips and drooping below my hemline. I ooched along, tugging and pulling with as much cool and discretion as I could. I quickly realized that I was not going to be able to walk, much less dance, in these things. But if I took them off, I was going to get blisters from my cowboy boots and be very cold in my short dress. Going back home to change was out of the question. I was kicking myself. Why oh why? I felt so spiffy and funky, but I was bursting this illusion with every tug on my undies and tights. There was nothing to do but think my way out of this situation like McGyver. I decided that an appropriately placed knot in the waistband might do the job. I tried to reach under my dress, up to the top of my tights, but could find no way of doing this without completely exposing myself from the waist down to everyone around me. Finally, in utter desparation, I reached through the stretchy armpit of my dress, down, down, down to the top of the tights and then pulled, up, up, up, through the arm opening, where I could get both hands on the waistband. I managed to tie a knot in one side, using the two-finger balloon tying technique (because the tights were stretched to their limits by this time). With that small success (and God knows what people thought I was doing--I couldn't think about that) I decided to go for the other side as well. Down, down, then up, up with the tights, tie a balloon knot, and let them sproing back into place, securely around my waist.

I was quite pleased with the results, despite having two strange lumps under my dress. The partner said they looked like extra outie navals. Or that my nipples had drooped to waist level. He's often helpful like that. But no matter, the tights were living up to their name, and I was able to dance the night away without worries. And once more, life provides these little comedies to make sure I'm still laughing at myself.