Saga of the Pantyhose

If you knew me well around the time of my mission, you would have heard me complain about having to wear nylons.  Ever since I was a girl, I hated the feel of nylons, the enclosed toes, the easily run material, the yucky texture, and the look.  Going on a mission was a sacrifice for me to wear nylons.  But more than that, I had my share of nylon mishaps:
I remember once, my 'big' (buff?) biker thighs literally split the nylons and then began to run down my leg, it took about 3 hours of biking before the runs were visible below my skirt line at which point we went into a Japanese "Konbini" (Convenience store) and purchased the largest pair I could find.  The waist barely made it to my thigh.  I suffered all day with short nylons (crotch came to about my knees) and as we were racing up the stairs to our apartment each stair they crept down my leg and were around my ankles, making me waddle like a penguin.   At least that made me grateful to have American fit nylons the next day.

My nylons ran nearly daily, sometimes 2-3 times a day . . . even the expensive-never-run kind.  My mom read one of my letters to our ward congregation and it ended with me begging for her to send me more nylons.  "Before you get frustrated, try walking a mile in my pantyhose . . ." I ended.  Several members of my ward made generous contributions to my nylon fund.  I'm sure I spent hundreds of dollars on nylons to supply my 577 day mission.

When I got home, I had a larger loathing for nylons and almost didn't take a job at the MTC for fear of having to wear nylons again.  It was worth it, but still, I hated it daily.

I haven't worn a pair of nylons in years. I have a bag full of them (leftovers?) and Dave has never seen them on me.

Last month when we were moving, I saw a large 'bruise' on the front of my shin.  It covered the span of my leg.  I thought I must've hit it on something while moving.  A few days later, I was wearing my running shorts and Hallie touched the back of my leg and repeated "Ow".  As I looked down the back of my leg, I saw to my horror the longest, gnarled, protruding vein running from my buttox to the back of my knee.  From experience with my mother's terrible case of varicose veins, I knew exactly what it was (although I hoped the Dr. would tell me I had a blood clot or something more 'treatable'.) He prescribed . . . what else?  Pantyhose!

After waiting 3 weeks in a lot of discomfort and some pain, not to mention having to see and feel the disgusting-looking veins, I was thrilled to get my very own $150 pair of pantyhose.  And I have to (should) wear them every waking hour (unless I am laying down for long periods of time).   I guess they always say that missions prepare you for the rest of your life . . .

But really, in this pair of compression stockings, I actually like the support and security the compression offers.  No more pain and discomfort.  Plus, I got open toe, so I can still wear flipflops and I don't feel so confined.  Hopefully, this will help them not to run.   I cannot believe I ever willing- even excitedly- paid THAT much for a pair of pantyhose.  The things we think we will never do in our life . . .  I'm glad I can still surprise myself.