I like tights. Like, a lot. I probably wear them two or three times a week. But when I was a kid I absolutely hated tights. Probably because my mother made me wear them, and as a child (and also sometimes now) I tended to form an instant dislike to anything that my mother thought was a good idea, just on principle. The other reason that I hated tights was because, due to my extreme youth and subsequent inability to adjust my own clothes, I inevitably spent a large portion of any Tights Wearing Day with the crotch of the tights sitting a solid two inches below my actual crotch. For those who have never experienced this, let me just tell you that is the MOST DISTRACTING THING EVER. You can feel where the crotch of the tights should be, and at the same time where it actually is, and it is literally a terrible, terrible feeling. Your entire universe is focused on this one awful point, and it is impossible to concentrate on cutting paper or eating your snack or paying attention to the story during circle time because the disparity between your two crotches demands your full and immediate attention. And since I lacked the wherewithal to pull up my own tights, or the rebellious, devil-may-care disregard for the rules to just go ahead and peel them off right there in front of God and my preschool teacher, I just had to suffer until it was time to go home.
Now that I'm much more handy in the clothing department, tights are like my new favorite thing. I can get away without shaving my legs for days at a time. It's a whole new world. Tights are warm, opaque, slimming, and who doesn't want purple legs once in a while? That's why I like tights.
