When I get bored, maybe like twenty years from now, I plan on scanning and uploading pictures from my modeling days. It was a non-stop job full of glamorous clothes, fun opportunities, and lots of good times. (When I enjoyed it. That all changed at the end when I began to dread it!) I was at the top of my game.
Fast-forward twenty years later, and here we are. Today I was measured for a custom-made pair of support stockings. Yeah, THOSE UGLY THINGS THAT OLD PEOPLE WEAR. I went for the really sheer ones that are open-toed and have pretty lace around the thigh-high elastic bands.
They cost around $100. It takes about a week for them to come in. I never in my life had anything custom-made for me, not even a gown by one of the famous designers I modeled for. But now I’m having a pair of SUPPORT STOCKINGS THAT OLD PEOPLE WEAR custom-made for me.
There are bonuses, too! I get to buy a special “glue” to put around my thigh to keep them from falling down. I also get to buy a special pair of rubber gloves that I have to wear to put the stockings on so they don’t run or get picks on them.
I learned more about orthostatic hypotension from the guy at the medical supply store who measured me than I did from all of the doctors I have been to over the past few months. A couple of the doctors recommended that I try support stockings, but I rolled my eyes. Taking a pill would be so much easier! Turns out the pills don’t work, so instead of feeling like I am going to die every day, I’m opting for the things THAT OLD PEOPLE WEAR.
(Here’s a little anatomy lesson: when you stand up, gravity naturally pulls your blood down into your legs. There are valves in your veins that are supposed to work against gravity to help pump the blood back up to your heart. Turns out that mine aren’t working, so the support hose will help them out.)
My new mission in life is going to be to come up with nifty ways to hide the fact that I am wearing these things. I thought if I get Botox and enhance myself in all areas above my waist, no one will bother looking down at my legs, right? Hmmm….anyone know a good doctor for that? Might be time to give Dolly Parton a call…