Queen Sized Trauma

Last week, I went to CVS in the morning to get some nylons. First off, I had no idea where they are because I'm pretty sure the last time I bought nylons for myself was when I was in dance classes and I needed them for my recital. So I find the nylons, and realize there are way too many options... control top, control leg, control toe, sheer, nude, blah blah blah... and then I look at the back of the box and realize that I am right on that cusp between size "B" and "Q" (yeah, that stands for Queen, FML). However, based on my height and size, I fall into their "B" category, so that's what I get. Then I stand in line for what feels like hours because they have one cashier and the only people that go to CVS in the mornings are, apparently, me and 80 year old women. So I get to work and put all my stuff down and head into the bathroom to put on the nylons. I get them half way up my calf and I start to struggle. I am thinking, what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is going on here?! I check the box and it says "B", but it also says "sheer control" soemthing or other. I think oh hell, I'm not going to be able to put these things on. so I continue pulling these things up my legs in the opes that there is a little bit of give as I get them up over my thunder thighs. Unfortunately, there's not, so it feels like I'm getting my thigh amputated as I continue to struggle to fit into these demon hose. I finally get everything up over my ass and as I make one final pull, my thumb rips through the nylons and sends a run down to about my knee. Now, not only do I have a run in my brand new hose, but I have a large blob of inner thigh trying to escape through this new hole in the hose. I say fuck it and head back to my desk. I sit down, and the top of the nylons immediately rolls and starts to cut off circulation to my intestines and other vital organs in my lower abdomen. so the long and short of it... apparently I really am a Queen.