Tights are NOT pants...

Yesterday I wore a long plaid shirt and capri tights to work. It was hot outside and I wanted something comfortable to wear. (I'll admit that until yesterday I never wore the tights alone. They've always been paired with a dress or skirt) But I was feeling bold, and I figured that it was time to shine and to make a statement and own my child-baring hip-hugging tights...

(That morning I was having a bona fide "You Go Girl Moment")

Needless to say, I wore the tights and I thought I looked pretty darn good. (No really, I even took pictures of myself in the bathroom because I wanted an outfit shot in the big mirror...) I thought I had coordinated a decent outfit that was trendy-ish.

Later that afternoon I was assigned to cover an awards ceremony at the local high school. My mission was to take pictures of the grads accepting awards for their hard work and academic achievements.

"OK," I thought. "This'll be a synch."

Hell, it's only a couple of photos right?!

So I get to the high school, and I am sitting at the back of the gym with the teachers. I feel a little self conscious, but I pass it off as me just being me. I ignore the feeling and sit there, waiting for the grads proceed into the gym. When they do, I get up and start to take all kinds of pictures.

Click, click, click, flash...

This is all fine and dandy, however when it came time to take pictures of students accepting their awards, I realize that I'm going to have to get bold and walk on up to the front of the entire room. (My lens isn't good enough to capture close-ups. I gotta do what I gotta do, right?!) Even though I already have this weird sort of phobia about high schools and walking in front of people, I go for it.

"OK," I thought. "I can do this."

So when it comes time for the next kid to accept their award, I get up and I start walking to the stage. I instantly notice that my shoes are stupidly loud, and I start to chicken out because I am making so much noise.

Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk...

I stop halfway down the row, kneel down and start snapping photos.

"I gotta get some good pics," I tell myself. "A good reporter would."

My photos are decent, but I can do better. I need to get even closer to the action. The principal calls the next award recipient's name, the crowd starts to clap, and I make my move. (Trying to hide my noisy shoes in the applause. Brilliant.)

I am now even closer to the stage, I start crouching down and snapping shots of the students, the awards, the presenters, the teachers on stage...Everything and anything I can think of that might make for a good shot. I've turned into a trigger-happy wanna be photographer.

I should note that as I am taking pictures, I am still on the floor, trying to stay out of everyone's way. (There were hundreds of people behind me, watching their kids, the last thing I wanted to do was to distract them or to disturb this moment for them.) I'm crouching, and on my knees, and then getting up and crouching down. I'm all over the place, thank goodness I wore tights since they're so easy to move in...

I finally finish up, the ceremony ends, and I walk back to my car on the gorgeous sunny afternoon. I feel as though I have captured some good shots; mission accomplished.

Well, as it turns out, later that day I ran into a friend of mine and he informed me that my pants were see-through.

"They look like panthose, maybe just a little less see-through," he said, adding that the sunlight made my tights even more transparent. "I can see everything."

I was mortified.

I'll admit, the tights felt like leotards, but since they didn't have that weird seem running up the butt like leotards do, I thought they were safe to wear as pants. (Plus, I bought them in the pants section at Walmart for goodness sakes. I bought them in the PANTS SECTION.) That morning I even made sure to look in the mirror at least a thousand times before leaving for work, because this was my first tiem wearing them without a skirt or dress. They felt a little light, but I certainly didn't notice that they were see-through.

"Oh my god," I thought.

"Well, at least you're not wearing granny panties," was his reply.

More utter humiliation.

He can see my underwear. Everyone can see my underwear. Everyone already saw my underwear. Things have gone so far downhill, I am literally walking around naked and I have been walking around parading my gigantic half naked bum all day. I went to the high school and stood up in front of everyone, taking pictures and crouching all over the place. I went to work, and walked around like nothing was amiss. I went to the gas station, Tim Horton's and Safeway like this. I was out there, showing my shit all over Winnipeg and Portage. I'd venture to say that at least a couple hundred people saw my half naked bum in my see-through tights that I bought in the pants section of Walmart, that aren't even pants.

This was mortifying. It felt like a Josie-Grossie moment (You know, Never Been Kissed, where Drew Barrymore goes back to high school as an undercover reporter, but no matter how hard she tries, she just isn't cool. Yep, that was me...)

The bottom line friends, tights are not pants. Stop trying to make them into something they're not and just accept them for what they are. Tights are NOT pants.