It's taken me 9 weeks to get used to shoes. During 8 years of working (and dossing about) at home, I lived in bare feet and flip flops, reluctantly pulling on trainers for the school-run, or coffee at Starbucks. The worst thing about starting a 'proper' job was having to wear sensible shoes again. Okay obviously the shoes weren't the worst thing, but they did add uncomfortable, sweaty insult to the injury of having a boss and no time at all to go for coffee anymore.
But the thing I will never ever ever ever EVER get used to is tights. Who the hell invented tights? It can't have been a woman. Every other day I wear trousers but today, most unusually, I had to go and meet a potential client in the City. Expecting them all to be smart city-slickers (which they weren't), I felt duty-bound to wear a suit. I only have one (ugly but hey, machine-washable) Marks and Spencers black suit, and in a moment of madness went for the skirt option instead of the trousers. Hence the tights. Itchy, pully, hot, stifling, nasty bits of nylon that threaten to ladder at any second without cause or warning. Tomorrow I'll be back in trousers and, dammit, to offset the discomfort of today, I might even wear trainers to work.
I work at home and was thinking only this morning how nice it was to HAVE to get out of my pyjamas, put on some lovely, cosy, comforting tights and head out to meet someone. A real person. Not my cat and not radio 4, but a real person, with whom I can have a face-to-face conversation rather than sporadic email bursts. I LOVE tights. 'nowt so queer, eh?
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