WARMER weather is bad news for those of us who hate our legs.

Thick, dark tights with not a hint of transparency are the best form of limb camouflage known to man, but when the temperatures start to rise, they are far from ideal.

My legs are literally welded to my woolly tights, but with summer fast approaching I decided it was time to shop around for an alternative to wear to work.

It’s amazing just how many types of tights there are out there, made with added benefits - pairs that moisturise your legs, make you look slimmer, energise you, massage as you walk, or deliver aromatherapy.

I’m sure if I look hard enough I’ll find a pair that do the weekly shop and clean the house.

So, with temperatures rising, I dragged myself to the shops. I was drawn to my usual 500 denier Axminster-carpet-coated pair but forced myself to drop down a few notches.

I was tempted by those offering ‘cool comfort’, but the words ‘bare’ and ‘invisible’ put me off, and I avoid anything with the word ‘sheer’ or ‘nude’ in it. Even 30 denier felt too thin, but in sub-tropical conditions, I knew I had to go lower.

‘No rolling, no digging, no sagging,’ they claim. I don’t believe a word of it - the thinner the tights, the more problems they bring. The pair I am wearing at the moment (dragged out from the inner recesses of my sock drawer), started to sag within five minutes of my putting them on. Within no time the gusset was half way down to my knees, and I knew if I hauled them up, they would rip.

That’s the beauty of wool tights, you can heave, drag and lug them around and they don’t tear. They cover all the unmentionables - thread veins, blotches, varicose veins, cellulite. They neatly package everything up and keep it in one place. Heavy-duty Lycra does an even better job, ironing out wrinkles and flattering even the most flabby legs. I have a few pairs of these, in black, of course.

Black tights truly are a girl's best friend: they bring shape where previously there wasn’t any, they turn cankles (if that’s an unfamiliar word, Google it) into ankles and smooth out angular knees.

Light tights can bring out the worst, with legs resembling uncooked sausages stuffed into their skins or mottled chunks of Stilton. Lace is too, well, lacy.

So-called ‘intelligent’ tights by London firm Heist cost a pretty penny compared to a bog-standard pair, but claim to contour your body in all the right places. I’ll give them a miss - my very best pairs claim to sculpt the body, but the result is more Henry Moore than Michelangelo.

I bought two pairs of tights, but they just don’t work. If it’s possible to have anaemic legs, that’s what mine look like in the semi-opaque, biscuit-coloured pair I selected.

Another looks too much like my nan’s favourite, American tan, which I’ve never liked. Neither pair resemble the picture on the packet.

It's a problem I am going to have to face from now until autumn. I might have to scout around for alternatives - unflattering floor-length skirts or billowing wide-legged trousers.

Or maybe I should throw self-consciousness to the wind and ditch the security blanket of tights for the summer months. On my lunch break today I looked around and every woman I saw had bare legs, very few tanned, honed and shapely.

By fretting over the issue, I am also assuming that other people are going to look at my legs, when in reality there is a high probability that no one is even the slightest bit interested.