Elephant Knees

Ok, I've had it. Enough already. I can't win. Final Score: Sara 0, Tights 1.

The little sizing chart on the back of packages of tights and nylons is based on height and weight. It seems fairly easy - find where your two numbers land in the grid to see the letter of your size. In the past, I've always picked up tights with the correct letter stamped on the corner of the package. And they always, always end up slipping down over the course of the day. By lunchtime, the crotch of them is always hovering near mid-thigh, and every trip to the bathroom has me tugging them back up. And snagging them with my ratty cuticles.

So, the last time I bought tights, I thought I'd be clever and purchase the next size up. I have the stumpiest of legs, but I was so sick of the dang tights falling down, that I decided to outsmart the system and fix things once and for all. I gleefully brought home a pair of tights intended for someone 20lbs heavier than me.

I wore them for the first time today, and walked out my front door feeling adorably twee with my slate gray tights and cute little black flats. But as I made my first restroom jaunt this morning, I noticed that as I was walking, the tights were once again slipping down. No, this can't be! But this time, the crotch stayed put. And the extra material was gathering at my knees and ankles, into folds. Um, folds of gray fabric bunched up on my knobby knees so does not look cute. It looks exactly like elephant knees: