My dress ate my pantyhose. Seriously.

Well, the wedding was fun. It was worth the nine-hour drive, with me just getting over Rachel's stomach flu, to be with family and friends at my ex's niece's wedding. The bride was radiant and so, so beautiful. The hall was elegant, the food delicious, the music, well, it was fun to dance to. Everything was perfect except for my carnivorous dress.

When I was invited to this wedding I realized it was time to buy a new dress. I thought back and realized that the last nice dress I bought myself was.....my wedding dress. Yipes! So I found this beautiful sheath dress. Two layers: a bright red shiny satin with a black net overlay with beaded designs on it. It was elegant and different and made me feel gorgeous. It has only one drawback. It ate my pantyhose. No, really, it did. You see, when I sat down, the shiny underlayer rode up on my thighs, leaving the net layer, with its glued-on beads (prickly dried glue) to rub against my knees. After the church, it was just a few annoying pulls. By halfway through the dinner the ladders were starting (heading upwards, thank goodness), but were hidden when I stood up. By the time the reception was over and a bunch of us were back at the bride's parents' house to continue the party, I no longer had knees in my pantyhose. Now *there's* a ladylike look to strive for -- white knees poking through torn black nylons.

This is me, and my knees, sitting with my ex-brother-in-law and father of the bride.