I'm a middle-aged mom these days, but when I was in high school I was quite a dish. Not only was I a hot cheerleader, but I was a member of National Honor Society and all kinds of other brown-nose organizations. These days my life revolves around skidmarks and meatloaf. Back then my life revolved around dating one of the stars on the soccer team, and, well, come to think of it, skidmarks.
Up until "the incident," my life seemed perfect. I was popular and pretty and from a good family. I had a boyfriend and my own car. The car wasn't exactly stylish, but it was reliable -- the rich kids had their Trans Ams, but I had my Ford Pinto.
I say "until" for a reason. Here's what happened to me.
One Friday afternoon just before Homecoming, there was a football team rally for the entire school. It took up the whole two final periods, so it lasted almost ninety minutes. As a basketball cheerleader (there were two different squads -- one for football, one for basketball), my cheerleading team had to do cheers for the first part of the rally. After that they told us we were free to change clothes and take a shower and return to the rally if we wanted to.
My stomach was slammed up with French fries. Back in high school, all I ever seemed to want to eat was greasy fries with a mountain of table salt. Once in a while I would get diarrhea and little pellets of goat shit would pop out of my ass. I never thought anything about it. The night before the school assembly, I had been out with my girlfriends at Denny's and had eaten two orders of fries and quite a few cups of coffee. In the morning I started farting. The farting got worse and worse. I took a long bowel movement just before lunch, and I thought the farting was over. But it continued -- and my underwear began to get skidmarks.
We had to do cheering as the rally started, and I was farting the whole way. Farting during cheering happens all the time. You really don't want the crowd to hear it, but there was a lot of noise going on, so it was no big deal. We completed our thing and I went to the girls' locker room.
My underwear was awful. I took a shower and was thinking about throwing them in the can; but instead I put them in my bag and dressed in new clothes. Then we went back to the assembly. The bag was on my shoulder.
Somebody bumped into me in the gym. I continued walking up into the stands. Then someone hollered out, "Your underwear is on the ground!"
Turning around, I looked back and the whole place grew silent. There sat my filthy panties. Skidmarked.
People began to giggle and make comments. I walked back and retrieved the panties off the floor; the underwear smelled worse than bear shit. I put them into the bag and walked out of the gym and got into my car and went home. I was so embarrassed that I stayed home sick on both Monday and Tuesday.
Some football cheerleaders called the house and asked my sisters if I was okay. The whole rally, they reported, had been talking about my skidmarks.
I was called Pert Squirt after this. I hated going to class. I stayed home sick as much as I was able. It seems funny now, but it ruined my social standing -- and I never got a date to the Prom.