Pantyhose is dead to me.

Dear pantyhose,

That stunt you pulled today? Not cool.

Alright, I get it. You don't like my butt. You like to slide your way off it and bunch up right around my hips and annoy the shit out of me.

I knew you sucked before I put you on but all my pants are in the wash and my mom thinks that women who wear skirts without stockings to job interviews are crude and unemployable. Besides it was cold out.

But we're a team, remember? We don't have to like each other; we just need to work together.

That means not inching your way down my thighs while I walk, because try as I might, there is no dignified and discrete way to hike up your hose in public, and there just aren't enough public washrooms around to duck into.

It also means not peer-pressuring my underwear to follow suit. It doesn't know any better. Why'd you have to drag it down to your level?

No, you let me walk in to a strange office and get ushered into an interview before I could ask to use their washroom, and unbeknownst to them you let me sit bare assed through the entire thing.

You're so annoying I want to cut you into little pieces with scissors.