The skirt was pretty much a disaster. By the time I walked the 8 blocks to the subway, the tight material was riding up my legs, sticky with sweat, causing my thighs to feel like they were wrapped in a shrink-wrapped rubber sausage casing. Standing on the subway platform, weighed down by bags, trying inartfully to straighten out my skirt, engulfed by the humid, stale, hot air of the subway tunnel, I felt beads of sweat start to roll down my legs. Disgusting, right? I didn't sit down on the subway car for fear that my tush would leave sweat marks on the back of my skirt.
These are some of the horrors of working in Manhattan in July.
3 comments:
LOL! Here, we just have to worry about what skirt looks better with wellies!
That sounds miserable. It's nasty here in FL, too, but I don't have to deal with skirts or subways.
mmm sweaty legs in the subway. Sounds appetizing.
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