A New Fashion Statement

Shannon and Dorsey and I were all set to get together and make hair bows when Shannon called me. However, the voice on the other end was not Shannon's, but Brenda's.
"Shannon was making some tea when the kettle exploded. She burnt her leg, so she'll have to reschedule."
"Oh my god!! Is Shannon okay? Is it bad? Did she go to the hospital?"
"Yeah, she's fine. I've got her here in a bathtub with ice water, she's just moaning and groaning and acting pitiful," Brenda replied nonchalantly. [In fact, Shannon had sustained second-degree burns to the majority of her left leg.] In the background, Shannon's voice could be heard calmly saying "I think I'm free on Sunday, so tell her we can make bows then."
Brenda relayed the message, and told me Shannon would call me back later.

A few days later, the gang got together for our bow-making session. Perhaps because each of us thinks the other two impeccably stylish and ourselves as a slovenly impostor, we always end up dressing up when we hang out. Shannon was wearing a stylish, coral-colored knit top, cutoff jean shorts, and...one...hot pink...capri-length legging, supported by a braided headband pulled around her thigh. [By this point, I had more or less forgotten about Shannon's burn, since Shannon was neither moaning nor groaning about it and hadn't mentioned it since the incident.]

Dorsey and I rather delicately avoided asking about it, as questioning someone's wardrobe choices tends to be frowned upon in our circle. During a lull in the conversation, I gently ahem'd my way to the point.
"Um. Shannon? Why...are you only wearing one legging?"
Shannon laughed. "Oh, this is to keep my burn covered. I ran out of bandages."
Apparently Shannon had been walking around the house without anything covering the burn, and sheets of her skin had been falling off and creeping out her various family members.

Artist's depiction.

Which I guess is slightly worse than wearing a single hot pink legging.