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One Charlie-Crazy Morning. . .Apr 12 '04 (Updated Apr 14 '04) Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line The following is a W/O entry--but I'm not going to reveal which W/O until the end, because it might prove to be a spoiler of sorts! I was either in sixth grade or seventh grade (I believe, the former) when a new kid named Charlie moved into our school district and was a fellow passenger on Jesse's bus . One day, I noticed that he and my cousin, Barbara, seemed engrossed in conversation--and, being the hopeless romantic that I am, I started acting like a matchmaker to these two (who were either freshmen or sophomores that year, depending on when this took place). "I now pronounce you man and wife!" I exclaimed. Charlie glared at me and fired back, "I now pronounce you crazy!" Little did he know that the time would come when he'd probably pronounce me even crazier--or even diagnose himself as having at least one hemorrhoid in the form of some bratty grade-school kid who rode his bus! I soon gave him the pet-name of Puttyhead. I meant it as a compliment--that something about his head (the color, shape, etc.) reminded me of some brand-new Silly Putty fresh out of the egg. Thinking back on it now, this probably wasn't the best nickname to come up with for poor Charlie. Anyway, I wanted to talk "girl talk" with Barbara about Charlie--but, according to her, there wasn't any girl talk to talk. They were simply discussing an assignment. No interest at all, she said--even though she did add that he'd come up with a really clever answer to my pronouncing the two of them man and wife. I thought it was quite clever and funny, myself. After this little unsuccessful stint at matchmaking, I didn't pay that much attention to Charlie either way, for the most part. I thought he was pretty fascinating--after all, what guy wouldn't be fascinating who reminded me of one of my favorite toys!?!--but I was now convinced that Barbara had no designs on him, and, at the time, I wasn't setting my cap for him, either. THIS WOULD SOON BE CHANGING, HOWEVER!!! The year was 1966, and it was now summer. Little did I know then that, in another part of the state, a very special guy whom I would fall at least 1000 times harder for than I did for Charlie--or anyone else I fell for during that period of time-- had just graduated from high school! At that time, all I knew was that I'd just finished seventh grade, liked an eighth-grade guy named Dorman who liked someone else (and, of course, I was hoping that would change), and I was about to take a road-trip through Mexico with my folks, uncle, and aunt. As it turned out, I would be returning from this vacation with a major case of puppy love!!! My new mantra just might have become: "Dorman WHO!?!" In fact, it pretty much DID!!! I was a lady-in-waiting--that is, waiting for the mailman to bring a letter from Aunt Marce with photos taken of Ignacio "Iggy" Sanchez!!! Back then, there was no such thing (at least, for everyday people) as one-hour photo service. And, in the case of the roll of film that Iggy had been captured on, the roll had to be finished, sent off, developed, sent back, and sent to me--and all of this seemed to be taking FOREVER!!! Finally, though, the day arrived when that long-awaited letter from Aunt Marce arrived, and I was all excited about showing everyone pictures of my South-Of-The-Border summer love. Barbara made the remark that he looked a little like Charlie. Hmmmmmmm. . .I'd never thought of that! But, come to think of it, he did, indeed!!! A few days later, I saw Charlie down at Pop's, a tiny neighborhood convenience store where you could pick up a few grocery items but one that, predominantly, sold candy, ice cream, pop, and other "junk food," making it a favorite hang-out for neighborhood kids. He had just gotten a new motorcycle, and he was wearing a get-up that included a leather jacket. He was also wearing his hair styled slightly different and bore more than a slight resemblance to Billy of the then-popular trio, Dino, Desi, & Billy. And, of course, Barbara was right in saying that there was more than a slight resemblance to Iggy, as well. There's an old song that goes something like "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with!" As much as I hated to think about it, I knew that, with different languages and lots of miles dividing us, chances were slim that Iggy and I would ever live happily-ever-after (at least, not with each other). However, with Charlie, there was potential--with the only fly in the ointment being that the feelings were, so far, one-sided. It was obvious that the only thing to do was to hang around him as much as possible until he decided to notice me back--and, as I've always been pretty straightforward in matters-of-the-heart, I wasn't shy about telling him that I was interested in him. When I was younger, my mom worked nights--which meant that she could give me a ride to school in the morning, leaving me more time to eat a leisurely breakfast, read on the pot, etc. and still make it to school in plenty of time. Now, my folks both worked days, so my bus-trip was a round-trip. And it was my last year of grade school, and I was hoping to get a perfect attendance award at the end of the year. Although I'd never been tardy before, I'd been--due to illness--absent at least a few days every year, making me ineligible for the award. Of course, I not only needed to be present to get the award but, also, not tardy. So, on the morning I'm now writing about, I was in a sort of loopy mood, playing romantic music on my portable bedroom hi-fi and daydreaming about how, soon, I would be on the bus, which would, shortly after that, be picking up Charlie. My dad left the house very early to get to work, but my mom left for work shortly after I'd caught the bus for school. And we were up in my bedroom talking while I was deciding what I would be wearing to school that day--finally, choosing a skirt and a po-boy sweater (the latter being a ribbed top of stretchy, lightweight material that was pulled on over my head rather than having buttons or a zipper. Just then, my mom looked out the door that opened onto a balcony on the south side of the house and saw the lights of the school bus, now stopped down at McAllister's place. Its next stop would be to pick up my cousins and (had I been ready and out there) me. From there, it would go on to Sheets', Broshar's, and back to Bennett's (the latter across the road from us). Only one thing to do now: Hurry the heck up and get dressed so I could catch the bus with the Bennett kids! This was a two-person operation (after all, we were starting from nothing but my birthday suit)--and I then ran out the door and over to the other side of the road. Soon, Jesse stopped to pick Charlie up, and I waved to him as he made his way back to his seat and sweetly cooed, "Hi, Charlie!" He mumbled some kind of reply that I couldn't understand--and was, likely, best that I didn't--in a kind of Mick Jagger voice. During a bus ride, we were supposed to stay seated--and I did. However, I also managed to look back at Charlie from time to time and flirt with him. The bus stopped at Kathey's place, and she plopped down in the seat I'd been saving for her, and, of course, we talked about Charlie. The bus stopped at Fall Creek Heights Elementary, and kids in the first eight grades got off while the high school kids stayed on and would be going on into the little village of Markleville to attend high school. After I got off, I went around to the window of the bus where Charlie was seated, tapped on the window, and waved at him. And, then, it happened!!! Just what I'd hoped for!!! Charlie had flirted back!!! I ran over to Kathey and my other best friend, Robin, to tell them the good news--how Charlie had given me the cutest, little wave. "I think he's starting to like me back!!!" I exclaimed, showing them how he waved at me. This was done by curling my thumb and all of my fingers except for the middle-finger, and, then, waving the middle finger. Kathey and Robin gave me the disappointing--and shocking!--news that this was anything but a little love-wave!!! Later on that morning, they would be giving me another "fact of life." When we got to the classroom, I took off my coat and hung it in the cloak hall. We had about half and hour before the first recess, so I got out a textbook and began to work on some math problems we'd been assigned to solve. As luck would have it, my pencil broke, so I headed towards the pencil-sharpener to repair it. Mr. Creason was sitting at his desk going over his lesson plan for the day--and, as I made my way to the pencil-sharpener, I noticed that he seemed to be staring at me so intensely that it's a wonder he couldn't see my skeleton! I didn't know what to make of the way he was looking at me--except that it seemed to be a look of disapproval. What had I done NOW!?! Perhaps, he didn't like the idea of my being out of my seat when it wasn't recess--but how would I get my pencil sharpened, if this were the case? I gave him a sheepish smile and a little wave, continued on to sharpen my pencil, and returned to my seat--with his eyes on me every step of the way. When the bell rang for recess, I was outside swinging and daydreaming about Charlie (I wasn't giving up on him!). The following recess, I was indoors, and Robin & Kathey told me that they were going to the girls' room, and did I want to come along? Of course, I did. At first, we made some small talk. Then, Robin suggested we play a game. She said that she wanted to take turns with telling what we were wearing under our clothing. She went first, sharing that she was wearing a bra and panties. I volunteered that I was wearing a bra, panties, and a half-slip. "You're not wearing a bra," Robin informed me. "Yes I am!" I replied. "No you're not!" she told me. "Go in a stall and see for yourself if you don't believe me." I went into a stall--and, sure enough, I wasn't wearing a bra! In total amazement, I asked Robin how she knew I wasn't wearing a bra--and she asked me if I knew why people wore bras. I replied that they wore them for support and to make their breasts look nice. Robin then asked me to walk over to the window and back (otherwords, the length of the girls' room) and to be sure to look at my sweater while I was walking. So, I began to walk my usual bouncy walk--and found out that my walk wasn't the only thing bouncy about me!!! Each well-developed breast--in rhythm with my bouncy step--was taking its turn being high ball and low ball in this exhibition. "How many other people know that I'm not wearing a bra today?" I asked. "Everybody in the classroom--and, probably, by now, a few other classrooms, too!" I was told by my friends. Suddenly, a vision of Mr. Creason glaring at me came to mind. "Mr. Creason knows, too?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be. "Oh yes! He DEFINITELY knows!!!" "I was afraid of that!" This was a situation that was both kinda funny and very embarrassing all at the same time. Our school was heated by steam with at least one radiator in each classroom, and, in this transition time when winter was becoming spring, the radiators were active, making the room too warm to be sitting around in a coat or jacket. Even so, when we got back to the classroom, I went to the cloakhall, got my own jacket, and wore it for the rest of the day!!! These days, I go bra-less most of the time--but there's no problem because my tits are too tired and heavy to bounce! You've just finished reading my contribution to Mimi369's second annual underwear W/O. To find out more about "what lies beneath," click here!!!  |
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