Tights Under Fire

From the time that I was six until the time that I was hired at the FHL, I refused to wear tights and did not even own a pair. That's thirteen years, more than half my life.

Since I had been out of that loop for so long, I definitely did not know about the difference between tights and nylons. No styles occurred to me. I just knew I didn't like wearing them. I finally realized there were more colors than just white after two years at the Library.

Unfortunately, just because there were more colors and thicknesses and patterns and other awful options like those squeezey tops (I can't remember what they're called, nylons were obviously invented by men) doesn't mean that my enjoyment increased at all. I felt it unfair that we were required to wear thin, ugly, uncomfortable, itchy things that easily got holes and cost a fortune.

(Here's a side story: one of the girls I recruited to work there said that one day she forgot to wear nylons and hoped no one would notice. She took a mini-nap during her break and heard a sister missionary say loudly enough for her to hear, "Why do these young girls have bare legs? Do they think it's SEXY or something?" As if that wasn't enough, she went on to say, "And why don't they sit up straight? It makes their stomachs poke out!" Ha ha.)

To the point of this whole thing: I have not worn nylons or tights since the day I left the Library, and I love it. I pulled all those awful old pairs out of my drawer today, intending to throw them away. I couldn't help setting them aside to find out the answer to my question, "Do nylons burn?"

I'll report back on that. See this post on nylons' flammability.