September 12, 2016 at 7:15 pm #3326
I was a very shy and timid little girl and remained so even into my twenties (although I had gotten better by then). But, when I was in the sixth grade, I was painfully shy and void of confidence. I only spoke if I had to and did not venture from my immediate surroundings except to go to school.
One day, my home room teacher took our sixth grade class to some place that was giving a bunch of students from multiple schools some kind of lesson in artifacts. The auditorium was packed with students all around the same age group. Just after a man welcomed everyone, he asked for some volunteers to come up on stage to hold some of the artifacts–and hands flew up everywhere. I could not understand why those student would want to go up there and stand in front of all those people. That was my extreme shyness speaking to me.
After the man had chosen a handful of students, he then said, something like, ‘Now, why don’t I choose someone.’ Out of a hundred or more students, whom do you suppose he chose? Not only the most shy person probably on earth, but the girl who had worn her mother’s panties to school because she did not have any of her own to wear? Did I tell you that we were extremely poor. I definitely can tell you some other embarrassing stories. Well, back to my painful story. When the man on the stage pointed to me about ten rows back, he said, ‘How about that girl in the red sweater?’ I tried to be sly back peeking behind me to see who else had on a red sweater–NOBODY!!! MY teacher said, ‘He’s talking bout you, ….. I said without hesitation and a whole lot of determination, ‘No he’s not, no he’s not, and repeated that when my teacher said, ‘Yes he is. Finally, I had to go up. NOw, back to my mother’s panties. All day, I had to keep pulling up those panties whenever I was standing or walking, and that was a job because I had to do it surreptiously, when I thought no one was looking. Now, here I am having to first, make the journey down to the stage, not knowing if the panties would survive the trip, BUT I was freaking out, wondering how was going to get up those stairs. The first thing I did was hold my legs tightly together as best I could as I tried to get passed my classmates and teacher. You see, I was about in the middle of the row. I’m telling you, ‘What Luck.’
As I made my way, VERY SLOWLY toward the stage, I clinched my legs and knees and took baby steps, trying to hold my panties–excuse me, my mother’s panties in place, which, by the way, had dropped below the crotch area. I was in an emotionally turmoil. And what made it even worse, I was walking like I was disabled because of how I was holding my legs, and when I got to the stairs, I swung my whole left side of my body and raised only the bottom part of my leg to step on the stairs. I did this with each stair AND extremely slow. I kept thinking about my teacher and classmates and what they were thinking. Here I was, someone who had turned into a physically challenged person. When I got over that huddle, my panties had dropped down further. The man on the stage probably thought I was disabled as he patiently waited for me as I took more baby steps on the stage to get to him, holding the artifact he was going to hand me. Needless, to say, I do not know what he said while I was on stage because I kept painfully wondering how I was going to make it back to my seat and how I could get away with having the other students on stage pass me, AND if my panties were going to survive on me or the floor. It was pure trauma for me. The trip back to my seat was just as awkward and painful as my trip was to the stage–REALLY, I was walking as if I had two broken or twisted legs. By the time I got back to seat, My panties were at my knees. Thank goodness, our skirts back then were below the knees. The whole time I was at my seat, I kept thinking how I was going to pull up my panties without anyone seeing. I was so miserable. It’s a wonder I did not have a heart attack. I knew I had to pull up the panties so when everyone stood up, I just reached down, grabbed my panties and pulled them up, hoping no one had paid much attention. Did I forget to tell you that my mother had searched high and low for a safety pin that morning to pin the panties? Bless her heart; she did try. Boy, am I glad that day has ended. I can laugh about it now, but it was definitely no laughing matter back then. May we all learn from our experiences. I learned not to wear my mother’s panties.
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