Thigh Highs, Goats and Promises to God

Some of you may not know this, and no one will believe it, but I have not always been the upwardly mobile cosmopolitan girl that you see before you today.

At one time, I was a country girl. My day consisted of preparing breakfast and getting kids off to school then coming home to feed the goats (who when alone referred to me as their “Sugar Mama” since I refused to sell them or eat them or otherwise do anything more than feed and pet them) and clean out the barn. I would also throw some feed out for the chickens and give the mule some sweet feed and hay. The pigs generally ate whatever everyone else dropped.

Well, no longer am I that overall-wearing, hay chewing, hog slopping girl. I am a city woman now. A full fledged, cell phone toting, card carrying upwardly mobile woman. The overalls have been traded in for skirts, blouses and blazers. Hose, heels and pearls. I have been transformed. A finely edged white collar professional.

A friend (who truth be told was also at one time as country and backward as I) introduced me to the finery of “thigh high” stockings to replace the binding, contorting and twisting that often occurs with the dreaded “pantyhose”.

Okay. I will admit it, I was skeptical of wearing these “thigh highs”. What if they fall? What if one slips down and I don’t feel it going? “Oh no!” my friend says, “they have this rubber stuff around the top and they’re tight enough that they wont fall down”. Satisfied that although I may wind up with purple legs from having the blood cut off I at least will NOT be humiliated by having them fall down around my ankles, I decide to try them.

Okay, granted most of you know where this is going by now right? I shall tell it anyway, just for clarity and as a warning to all you “good ole girls” who attempt to leave your roots and go high society.

This morning I dressed rather stylishly. I wore a rather smart looking black skirt with a split up the left side, a purple and black sweater and the perfect accessories. I also wore those wonderfully silky, black, feminine, liberating thigh highs this morning.

I walked out to my car with my head held high, secretly looking around to see if possibly a neighbor may be noticing the very polished lady next door walking to her car to go to her posh office for the day. No one was out. But that was okay. I still was feeling very posh, very....”smart”. That is...until....I got to work.

Everything was fine when I pulled into my parking spot. There were a couple of people already working at the office next to ours, maybe one of them would glance out and see this astonishing example of just how far a country girl can come. I got about half way between my car and our door when I felt it! A little tickling on my leg. Just a small feeling of something brushing along the thigh. Immediately... I knew!

I began taking smaller steps thinking maybe that will keep them up, all the while wondering whether that is the correct plan of action of if I should just break and run so as to get in the door before they fall all the way off.

I should have run. By time I got about 5 feet from our door, with my key in my hand, I was walking on the right one and the left was almost there as well. I crammed the keep into the first lock, making all kinds of promises to God if only He would see fit to let me get in and get behind my desk before my boss arrived.

Now, my female friends, let us all be honest with one another here. We are alone right? How many of you shave every day during the winter time? How many of you shave every other day in the winter time? Okay, now for those of us who can be honest....how many of you at the very best shave every couple of weeks during the winter, raise your hands. Yep. Count me in that last category. Did I mention the black skirt I am wearing has a split up one side? You know, a split that is made to show off the slender, toned side of the leg?

AS far as those promises I made to God...No one saw me before I could snatch those nasty thigh highs off! I do intend to uphold those promises, one of which was to never wear those thigh highs again. From this point forward, I will wear only pantyhose... the way God intended.

By the way, you can take the girl out of the country, but goats should stay where they belong.