I do not wear nylons because the artificial color of the “nude” leg looks ridiculous when compared to the rest of my body. Because I hate the tightness that creeps around my belly from the waistband, and the itchiness of the fabric against my lower legs. I don’t wear nylons because my toes feel cramped and my whole body overheats from lack of air circulation. Because I feel as though I cannot breathe and I think, every time I try to put a pair on, that my lung capacity diminishes to the size of a mouse. I don’t wear nylons because they remind me of those days during my pregnancies when I had to wear compression hose and wrestling them onto my swollen legs was as difficult as nailing jello to the wall. And because when I do try to wear nylons—on those days when etiquette demands it, like to an interview—I open the package and pull the stretchy gauze over my knee and instantly make a hole in a spot that will be visible to all who see my legs. The nylons might be run resistant, but they are not hole resistant. What a waste of money and time. And this, my friends, is why I do not wear nylons.