The truth is in my day job I don’t get to dress up like girl very often. Most of the time I’m at my desk drawing or on building sites with various builders and tradesmen, occasionally refereeing Eastern European disputes. It’s been decided that the regular Latvian plasterer is according the Polish Plumber ‘A Vanker’ while on the other side Latvian Plasterer decided Polish Plumber was a ‘Shit Bags’ I’ve no idea what he what happened between Poland and Latvia but they tend to work together in an awkward silence. Occasionally I get to referee, see that’s where my hard hat comes in handy.
For some unknown reason people seem to think that my job is a glamorous one. I’m here to tell you right now it’s not. I spend a lot of time in the cold and damp on building sites or in furniture warehouses. My daily attire usually consists of work trousers and several thermal vests with steel toed boots, it’s a sight to behold. But the truth is that love it, I have a great imagination and can see the end project even before we start a project.
I work closely with clients, so it’s imperative that I make a good first impression so for first meetings I get to dressed up, well it’s just work wear for most women, but for me it’s dressed up.
Having arranged to meet client in a city center coffee shop I had a sudden enthusiasm to get down and girlie, before you all jump to conclusions, my client is a lady, so I reached for a skirt and jumper, well it’s Ireland and it’s always a tad chilly.
Now the sad truth is, I’m only telling you this, so tell nobody else, but I’m a fan of support tights. Mild support according to M&S, but I love them, they make ones legs feel light and airy, a little buddha belly support, support tights are the whole package and I love them.
Checking myself out in the mirror before I my coffee shop meeting, I looked like a woman, not the usual mature transvestite woman, but a woman. See support tights are magic, not only did I look fine I felt ‘light and airy.
That was until I was marching up the street I noticed some ‘wrinkling’ around my ankles. ‘That’s cool’ I thought to myself I’ll sort that out when I get to the coffee shop. Only now I could feel it, I could feel the gusset being drawn down, it was being drawn down to my knees like a magnet. Oh this wasn’t good. I walked quickly, as quickly as I could stretching out my legs as far as they could go in the hope that it would help my tights ride up again.
Well that failed. I continued my walk like a sad penguin.
Arrived at destination with gusset just above my knees, tights wringled like Norah Batty around my poor ankles. I tried to make my way to the loo to restore my dignity, but she was off her seat greeting me diverting me, oh this was tragic.
‘I’ve ordered coffee, sit sit’ she was so enthusiastic I was in my seat before I knew it.
She had her file out with all the specs for her rooms and furniture orders I’d placed.
‘I think you’re absolutely right, we should go with white linen and duvets in the main bedroom’
There I sat, in Le Petit Parisien, with my gusset firmly on my knees and my ankles swamped.
‘Excuse me’ I managed ‘I’ll be back in a minute and we can take up with the bedroom decor’
Then it happened as I stood up the top of my tights slid gently down over my arse so most people in the coffee could see my low hanging gusset.
The Joy of a low hanging gusset. Actually not so joyful at all at all.