I had a bit of a dilemma yesterday. I was on my way to meet my lovely sister in law Mrs H for our monthly coffee and catch up, when I chanced to look down at my leggings and tunic, just to check that my vast behind (this said in broad pirate accent if you'd be so kind) was suitably covered.
Horrors.... I had a hole in my leggings half way between my knee and my HRT patch, revealing a small island, so white that you'd think I hadn't seen the sun since 1976. I didn't have time to go go home and change, nor did I have one of those handy sewing kits in my bag which you can nick from upmarket hotels, so I did what any sensible woman would do, and went back to my car to consider my options.
First of all, I tried pulling the leggings further up my leg so that the hole was hidden by my tunic. All well and good until I realised that my Harvest Festival Knickers (named thus because 'all is safely gathered in') were now bunched up around my Sheepdog Bra ('round 'em up and point 'em in the right direction') with the ensuing wedgie causing me to walk like John Wayne with piles. The legging slid down to its original position after five paces, so it was back to the car for Plan B.
Pulling the leggings downwards slightly, I dragged the holy leg down till the offending part was tucked in my boots. Yet again, this worked well till I started walking, at which point the gusset of my leggings worked its way down my legs so that my walk was very reminiscent of Danny de Vito as The Penguin.
I then tried twisting the leg around, so at least the hole would be on the inside of my leg and less visible from the front, but this also failed miserably. It would appear that leggings have a set position and will not deviate for any reason.
By now, I had resorted to sitting back in my car, and staring at the hole I suddenly had a light-bulb moment. Rifling through my bag, I found a black Sharpie pen which I'd used yesterday morning to address a rather large parcel, and I simply coloured in my skin so that it blended in with the leggings. Hoorah! Success was mine.
Interesting trying to explain to the husband why I had a marble sized ink blot in the middle of my leg last night though. It would appear that the ink from a Sharpie pen is extremely resilient and short of getting out an industrial sander, I think it will be good company for my HRT patch for the next few days.
Looking at my right leg before bedtime last night, with its sticker and abstract colouring in, I was reminded of something which one of my kids might have 'made' for me while at nursery school many years ago. The husband had the same idea, and started humming the theme tune from Vision on, while frantically waving his hands around in an extremely poor version of the sign language they used to accompany the famous last line each week.
'We're sorry we can't return any of your pictures, but there is a prize for those that are shown'.
No prize for my leg, I'm afraid, just a good scrubbing with a scourer...