Control top tights out of control

Saturday my mom took me to the Nutcracker. She got us great seats and we both dressed up.

In the middle of the snow storm, before the show, my mom arrives at my apartment with a dress and no tights. I tell her,

“I’ll be right back.”

I don’t have a tights collection to rival my underwear collection, but I have a few spare pairs. I find one still new in the box. I give them to my mom. She says,

“I don’t think these will fit.”

“They’re your size.”

“We’ll see.”

She gets them on her feet and despairs. I don’t think she’s trying hard enough. I remind her,

“They’re control top, they’re supposed to be tight.”

“Well I have to get them over my knees first.”

Once they’re over her knees I can tell she’s about to give up. I tell her,

“Stand up, I’ll help you.”

I pull on the tights, almost lifting her off the ground. I realize that even if I get her in, what’s going to happen in an hour when she needs to go to the bathroom? We give up as my mom moons the next door neighbors.

This photo is from the 34th annual Mooning of Amtrak event. It’s a real thing.

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