I ran into the house and threw my arms around my bear of a husband, "15 minutes!" I panted, "I have 15 minutes to get ready!". I kissed him on the mouth, threw my purse down on the counter and my coat on the couch, and ran up 2 flights of stairs to our bedroom. I stood in front of a row of dresses trying to catch my breath and lamented that I hadn't shaved my legs in a socially acceptable amount of time. "Tights…" I muttered. What was I going to wear with tights? Do I even know where my tights are ? Trying to think quickly, I grabbed my bin of socks (and occasional hosiery) off the shelf and sorted through quickly trying to find those elusive black hose. Getting frustrated that I still had yet to be dressed, and that 5 precious minutes had passed, I tried on outfit after outfit- hating each more than the last. This one's too tight. This one's too short. It's too cold for this one. This one's too big. All of them were wrong in some way...
A fat kid trying to suck it up so she won't have to suck it in.