Because I can only complain about pregnancy so much without driving everyone away, I'll deviate slightly just this once. Ok, I lie, because this post is born of one of my biggest pregnancy pet peeves - elevated body temperature.
Us lucky southern UK folk are in the midst of a heat wave, which in English terms, means that it has gotten to about 90 degrees or so over the past few days. I grew up in Central Pennsylvania, home of the endless 100 degree summer with 800% humidity, I should be used to this, right? However, air conditioning doesn't exist here, at least not in the circles I move within. My office has been doing its best impression of the fiery pits of hell, and succeeding quite admirably I may add. I hope no one mentions a fan, as yes, I have two pointed at me at all times and they do absolutely fuck all. My mom actually said to me the other day (when I was complaining endlessly about the heat), "Do they have fans there?" Hell no! We just done got 'lectricity last week maw, how we's gonna get one of them thar fans?
My body cannot take this. I've nearly expired every day this week and taken my fat ass cankles with me. I sit, slumped over in my chair, listlessly typing random drivel in the vain hope that I'll look like death enough to be sent home. No such luck as of yet. It doesn't help that this brings the fuckwits out of the woodwork that say things like, "Wow. You must be hot." or "Ha. Don't you look uncomfortable." Yes, thank you very much for noticing. Now my attention has also been called to the issue even more, and I realise how truly miserable I am. Cheers, asshole.
So anyway, on with the non-pregnancy stuff that I mentioned earlier. My hatred of the heat at all times in my life has lead me to have some weird sensory issues that are coming to a bit of a head at the moment. First of all, I have a slight tights/stocking phobia. I hate them. I cannot stand the feeling of them on my legs, and will do all I possibly can to avoid wearing them. Unfortunately I have some ugly ass legs that would really benefit from some covering, but I can't force myself to wear tights.
I love skirts, but if they necessitate tights-wearing, I'm out. I also hate the web crotch situation that so many of them have, where the crotch just sort of stretches 3 inches lower than where your crotch is actually located. You can go up a size or two to avoid web crotch, but of course you then have to hike them up every 2 minutes and thus look like a really classy broad. What is worse than simply wearing tights is if you are wearing them and they get wet. The mere thought is enough to make me want to crawl out of my skin. Ugh. One day this winter I was walking to work in the rain and I passed a woman wearing tights and her legs were soaked. I had to cross the road lest I vomit at the sight and further thought of the sensation of wet tights on bare legs.
For some reason, in this weather women have still been wearing tights. The idea of sweaty legs under tights is just as bad, if not worse than the concept of rain-drenched legs in tights. As I said, my legs may possibly be the most hideous, pale, veiny things to assault one's vision, but my hatred of tights is insurmountable. I will make you look at these things if it means I don't have to have convulsions at the thought of putting on tights.
I'm fearful, as this issue with hot and/or wet legs (ooo la la) under clothing might be extending to trousers now as well. I have lived in the one dress and one skirt that I can fit in all three days this week. Yes, I had to do a spontaneous load of laundry last night, but it meant my legs were bare and my crotch could breathe today, rather than forcing the poor things into a pair of non-breathing trousers or jeans. Yesterday, the female caretaker at work was telling me how she had to wear polyester trousers as part of her uniform, proceeding to tell me in vivid detail how little polyester breathes (go figure) and how uncomfortable she has been in the heat. The combination of "polyester" "legs" and "sweat" almost pushed me to stick my ears in the nearby fan to end the aural misery of this tale.
The point to all this rambling is that I would like to know what your weird sensory issues are, if you have any. It is also entirely possible that I am a freak that deserves to be tortured with the idea of wet tights and sweaty, clothed legs. So please, do tell. Oh, and I better not get any wet tights in the post.