The show must go on...

All I can say is, it's a good thing I decided to wear slacks and not a dress to my holiday performance.

Squeezing my not-quite-(yet)-queen-size butt into a pair of control top pantyhose was unbelievably difficult. I was lucky to discover an unopened XL pair in a box in the back of the dresser drawer.
Brand new I'm telling you! How lucky could I get? They must have been in there for five or six years.

Right before I left for my school performance, I used all my oomph to squeeze every ounce of my
uhm-huh! into those boa constrictor tight spandex hose. I refrained from drinking any punch, for fear of having to go to the bathroom and having to fight the good fight again.

The Christmas Program was held in the school gymnasium. I walked across the half acre gym to the rear entrance door to admit people. By the time I got to the door, I was consciously aware of my dressy black slacks on my rear end. I could feel an odd crease across the bottom of my cheeks. And I don't mean my smiler.

 I leaned my back against the door and discreetly inserted my hand into the back of my pants and yanked what I thought was the waistband of my pantyhose. Turned out to be my undies. OUCH. I winced when I gave myself an unexpected wedgie. I strolled across that ACRE gym again and high tailed it to the bathroom. I bumped into Bill as he was heading to the coach's room to get into his Santa suit.

"Psst! Hey you! Come in here!"

He back tracked three steps, and said, "I thought I heard somebody. What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Maybe you can tell me. I feel something odd. Do you see a crease or a seam across my backside through my slacks?"

That was too much for him to process, so I yanked him into the john and locked the door. "Help me!"

I raised my fancy blouse up and tugged my dressy black slacks down. We both saw it. He walked out of the bathroom laughing, and "Ho-Ho-Ho-ing" and wiping his eyes.

My pantyhose had sproinged; the elasticity had thoroughly disintegrated. The control panel was stretched out of shape and had rolled to my crotch. I'm thinking these may have been in the drawer for not 5 years but maybe 15 or 16 years, come to think of it. Good thing I had slacks on or they'd have kept travelling and been at my ankles.

I received my cue to get the kids. No time to remove my defective hose...I yanked the stretched out panty part up, tucked the waistband into my undies waistband, and the show went on. The kids did great. For an hour, I could feel the slow shift taking place every time I moved, bent down, dressed a child in costume or led them on or off stage or across that damned TWO ACRE gym.

As people were leaving, my boss and I stood at the back door. I said, "You won't believe this. My pantyhose are out of control. They've lost their oomph and are drooping under my butt."

She whispered back, "Well I had a worse problem. Mine rolled down when I sat, and they dug into my stomach so hard they cut off my circulation. My legs went to sleep, then my butt, and I couldn't even get up to walk."

We hobbled across that damned THREE ACRE gymnasium, and I beat her to the bathroom.

Two weeks off. We need it!