The second incident was in 12th grade. I had been dating this guy for a month. It was sweet, innocent stuff, certainly more innocent than he had in mind. He had never seen my underwear, and I was intentionally avoiding thinking about how that would play out. Luckily, he took care of it for me. He bought me a sundress. I actually thought it was sweet, but he kept needling me about how I had to wear it to school the next day. I was a pushover and eventually relented. I tried it on the night before. I had no compression shorts or anything because I never wore skirts or dresses (for ANY occasion -- dressing up meant pants) and because I only had underwear that would look ridiculous under anything tight. Regular shorts under the dress puffed out like a diaper. So, despite my trauma from the year prior, I figured I had no choice but to wear the dress with only underwear underneath it. I thought white underwear would be the best idea (now I know nude is better but I didn't have any that color anyway). My only clean white ones had little flowers on them, but I tried shining lights from every angle and it looked like they didn't show through. Plus, the dress went almost down to my knees. It was certainly worrisome and gave me embarrassment pangs from my previous ordeal, but the guy was very adamant (pathetic, I know), and people wore dresses all the time without incident. So, I wore it. And it was fine, no wind caught it or anything. When he saw me he gushed about how beautiful I looked, which was annoying but also kind of nice. Everything was going great until we met in the hallway to walk to lunch together. When he saw me he ran to me, darting around everyone in the crowded hallway (theater people, never again. no offense theater people) and calling my name. So with that and the dress I'm already becoming quite self-conscious. Then the dumb jerk swept my legs up to carry me. Only he didn't get a good grip, and wasn't strong enough, so he had to jostle me into position. This was all very surprising and upsetting, and naturally my hand rushed to my backside to hold the dress to my thighs and keep it from sweeping up to reveal my underwear. But I couldn't find my dress. My hand clapped right onto my underwear-covered butt. I kept reaching up and up but it was nowhere. My heart was in my throat. All I could do was hold my tiny hand over my underwear, THE ENTIRETY OF WHICH WAS OUT IN THE OPEN, and look down the direction we were moving in the hallway at the wonderful sight of countless people becoming alert to the commotion, looking towards us, and seeing my entire exposed torso, covered only by another humiliating pair of Fruit of the Loom big cotton puffies with an adorably un-sexy cartoon flower print. Like awww was she trying to look sexy in her pretty floral panties? But she's so clueless that she picked out a pair that a priest's wife wouldn't be caught dead in? There were definitely some laughs, a good number of "OMG that poor girl" kind of mouth-covering reactions, and even a few "eww" reactions that stung pretty bad. I was hitting the clueless oaf on the shoulder and after a few seconds he read the reaction and realized he had screwed up pretty bad. Apparently, as he struggled to pick me up, the hand that was on my back snagged the hem of the dress and it went allll the way up. My cellulite, my little belly folds, and of course the underwear. For everyone to see. Very unflattering. When he put me down I caught a glimpse of his face and he was definitely mortified. He was saying he was sooo sorry but I was not sticking around. I walked right out to the parking lot, got in my car (thank goodness I was driving by then), and left without signing myself out. Unexcused absences were a small price to pay for leaving that scene with a quickness. I didn't fully cry at any point during or after the jeans incident, but I cried all the way home this time. Either it was a Friday or I stayed out of school for the rest of the week, but I know I was not back the next day. There were a few comments when I got back, but nothing really mean-spirited. I didn't even break up with the guy right away, though we were through after a few weeks. I was always just so mad at him and hanging out got quite tense. The jeans incident probably made this one a little easier, but that's not to say the sundress incident was not absolutely humiliating. I still cringe to think about either one.
