My summer fashion statement

Friday, July 15, 2016


This week was one of those weeks where I felt like if someone just looked at me funny, I was going to burst into tears.

Work was rough and then my vulnerability was only magnified when I went to my appointment at the vein clinic on Monday.

Let me back up for a sec: Ya’ll know I’ve been struggling with these hamstring/back issues since November and blah blah blah. Well, one thing that no medical professional has been able to explain to me is why my legs feel so HEAVY when I run. My energy for cross-training is off the charts (and I actually look forward to those more than my running workouts right now), but when I try to run, it’s like trying to wade through a pool of marshmallow fluff.

It could be the heat. It could be my stride. It could be a mental barrier.

It could be lots of things.

BUT, the symptom that’s most concerning is the appearance of bright green veins on my legs that literally popped up overnight. Two decent sized veins are now visible on one of my shins and on a few on the backs of my knees. I'm not sure what the situation is with the veins on the back of my legs since it’s an area of my body I don't see (or would want to see) every day. But I know for a fact these little squiggly veins on my shin are a brand new development.

Heavy legs. Big, meaty veins. I wanted to talk to someone about it.

The vein doctor doesn’t know what caused it. Could be fat loss (I wish). Could be from weight lifting. Could be from hormones.

It could be a lot of things.

BUT, in order to get insurance to kick in for yet another ultrasound (I seriously don’t know how many times I told the folks at the vein clinic that my GP ordered an ultrasound in February to check for blood clots) and subsequent treatment, we have to prove that non-invasive methods won’t fix the problem.

Enter the ever-sexy, always fashionable COMPRESSION STOCKINGS.

They don’t even have the dignity to refer to them as socks.

They're STOCKINGS.

I think I just aged 40 years with a single prescription.

Rx COMPRESSION STOCKINGS.

I’m already embarrassed to wear shorts because I think my legs are disgusting from these veins, but now I REALLY can’t wear shorts because I’ll be rocking compression STOCKINGS for the next 6 weeks.

It’s the middle of July.

I think laughing about it is seriously the only thing that’s keeping me from crying.

This year has been rough, man. 30 has not been kind to me.

The vein doctor led me to believe that this particular health store sold several colors and styles and had the very best to offer in the world of fashionable compression stockings.

False. The health store had only black, white, or tan. And guess what? The only color they had in stock and in my size was nude. 

But I did have my choice of the ever-alluring sheer or the very mysterious opaque.

When I was getting measured for my special prescription stockings, I felt the need to apologize for the girth of my calves (I feel like I need to forever apologize for my body, as if saying something about my insecurities upfront will magically protect me from any possible judgement. Like, if I say it first then they can't hurt me. Which is hilarious because no one thinks or cares about my body as much as I do.) So as you can imagine, my compression stocking size is size large. "Ya know, it's not enough that I have to wearing compression stockings in the first place, so please give me the biggest ones you have."

Doing everything I could to maintain some semblance of my former self-esteem, I made a plea with the customer service rep to please, pretty please give me a third pair that I can run and workout in without looking like an idiot (because who wants to see me sweating in tan thigh-high stockings? Everyone. No one.). Surely my insurance company will take pity on me and cover the cost.

Thank goodness for prescription athletic compression SOCKS (yes, actual socks). They had a small display with several pairs of compression running socks and THANK HEAVENS they had one more pair in my size. In hot pink. But the color didn’t bother me. They could have been covered in swastikas and gang signs for all I cared. Just getting an actual pair of socks was a welcome reprieve.

Three pairs of compression socks for $200.

Merry Christmas, everyone. 

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