There is a female usher at church who is always so very nicely dressed. She hails from the generation just before mine and though I can't say for sure, I am pretty certain she must have carry one of my same crosses: fat thighs. The reason "how come I know" is that this morning at Mass during the Offertory as she walked past, No. 4 leans over and asked, "Mommy, what's that swish swish swish noise?"
I shivered remembering the painful hours I logged in two decades ago as a chafed, thin-thighed wannabe.
Ahhh, that would be control top pantyhose young Grasshopper.