Old habits die hard

I have this problem. I've had it for awhile, actually. Since last year. It's not earth-shattering or anything, but it does cause distress.

My work pants, all of them, are too long. Not just a tiny bit long, I'm talking TLC's What-Not-to-Wear-intervention too long.

"Just go to a tailor, silly girl!" I can hear my mom saying in the back of my head. I should, I really, really should. Because after the stunt I pulled yesterday, no self-respecting professional could live with herself.

Back in junior high, the trend among the pre-teen scene was shortish t-shirts. I am a short girl, always have been, so my t-shirts seemed extra long. Tucking was way out. So what did I do? Tape. Scotch, to be precise. Every morning, I would carefully fold the hem of my shirt up about 4 inches or so and apply tape. Lots of it. Voila! One shortish t-shirt.

(You're cringing a little bit, reading this, aren't you? Because you know where this is going... yeah, I don't blame you.)

So, yesterday I'm practicing in my office between students and I catch a glimpse of my almost put-together self in the mirror. "Damn...," I thought. So I sat down at my desk and carefully folded the hem of my beautiful slacks up about 3 inches and applied tape. Lots of it. Voila! Hemmed slacks.

This lasted through one 30-minute lesson. Thankfully I have a tiny bit more self-respect than I did as a junior high student and realized that I could not get away with this because a) the tape was releasing on the seams and was peaking out from "hem" and b) it kind of made a weird sound as I walked. (Hmm.. I just realized that I used the same logic as a criminal who is sorry only because he has been caught.) Let me be clear: had the tape held and was sound-free, I would have been satisfied, at least for yesterday, with my scotch-taped hem.

I have a problem. This is clear. This weekend I will find a tailor and hopefully put an end, once and for all, to my homemade hems.