I have a weakness for fishnet tights. I freaking love them. I would wear them every day – to work, to church – if I thought they were the least bit classy. Alas, alack, I save my fishnets for nights out. Like tonight. Hibachi with friends. I opted for a simple grey dress, grey shoes and black large mesh net stalkings. I wore my hair down, tucked behind my ears and donned little pink rose earrings. Before walking out of my house, I checked myself out in the mirror and nodded, feeling very satisfied.
I have several pairs of fishnets: large mesh, small mesh, two pairs in nude with seams going up the back, one pair in pink. They really add a little something to my Saturday nights out. I don’t know what it is about wearing them that makes me feel so damn sexy, but every time I slip them on, I feel like a million bucks (or one of those high end escorts -for like the President of Saudi Arabia or something).
Of course, I don’t really ever “slip” into them. I’m clumsy. Really. Getting a pair of fishnets on my legs often times resembles amateur alligator wrestling. It can get downright ugly. There has been blood, screams, even tears. Injuries I’ve sustained while jumping around trying to tug a pair of fishnets up my legs without ripping them apart include: stubbed toes, broken nails, twisted ankles, a bloody nose, and more than a few contusions on various parts of my body from strategically located furniture. I may have almost suffered a concussion one time, but I can’t remember.
Still, get a look of my legs in those tights and you know it’s worth it. I look great. As long as I’m standing perfectly still.
As soon as I start moving, the clumsy takes over again.
See, I can be a train wreck. Not your normal train wreck, but your bonna fide skirt-tucking-into-tights-sometimes-snag-them-on-the-door/table/waiter-spill-things kinda train wreck. Tonight was no exception. Of course.
Driving to Nine East was uneventful. I was actually going to be on time (a-m-a-z-i-n-g) and I had remembered to wear my glasses, keeping the roads safe for us all. When I got to the parking lot, I saw one of the friends I was meeting . She rolled down her window to ask me a question. When I went to roll down mine (I’m one of the only people I know with manual windows….) one of the fashionably stacked bracelets on my RIGHT hand got snagged on my LEFT thigh. I was stuck. My right hand was stuck – my left hand was free to steer the wheel, but I was unable to reach the shift with my right hand to put the car back in first gear.
An impatient looking man in a large truck pulled up behind me. I gulped loudly as he flashed his brights in my rear view. Should I get out of the car, walk doubled over with my right hand on my left thigh and explain to him my predicament? Should I rip my brand new tights and chock it up to a loss of $8.99?
I should have remained calm and focused intently on untangling my bracelet from my thigh. It probably would have only taken about six seconds. Instead, I panicked. I yanked my right hand quickly and my bracelet popped off. My hand was free, but the bracelet was still clinging to my leg. Still, the move was good. It bought me time. I was able to maneuver to a parking spot without much difficulty and then carefully extract the bracelet from my upper thigh.
Unfortunately, that isn’t the first time I’ve snagged one part of my body on my leg when I’ve gone out in my fishnets. I think the most awkward was when I was in the bathroom at a bar and I leaned down to refasten my heels and got my earring caught on the back of my calf. There’s absolutely no way to come out of that situation gracefully.
Fishnets are for sexy ladies. Ladies who don’t trip over their own two feet or have “chipmunk cheeks.” Fishnets are for ladies who can “drop it like it’s hot” without ending up sprawled out flat on the dance floor. Fishnets are for ladies who probably don’t wear as many accessories as I do….
Still, I freaking love my fishnets and sexy lady or not, I’m going to keep rocking them. And if I end up drowning in a toilet because of some awkward position I got myself tangled up in one night, please bury me in the nude fishnets – I do think they are a little more classy than the black ones.