Those are NOT my undies

The clown called for volunteers.  Of course I stuck my hand up!  


I was 10 years old and the stage wasn’t scary to me anymore.  I had some practice being up there.   I had read something about Paul and the Colossians at the assembly the previous week.  I waved at my best friend and she waved back.Things were looking good.


The clown started by making animals from balloons.  The kids laughed.  I did too.


Then, came the main event.


He started by doing some “magic” and then he held something pink in his hand.  He called for kids to guess what it was.


After allowing all sorts of “wrong” answers to be screamed out, he revealed the truth.


It was a panty.  A huge pink panty.


And, it was supposed to be MINE!


The kids really laughed!!


I did not find it funny at all but I laughed too.   


I knew that it did not belong to me.  I was at a Catholic school and we all wore the standard thick, navy blue issue. (Well, at least the rule followers did).  But, that didn’t mean that the kids knew this.


They assumed that I was starkers!  And, it hurt.  I walked off the stage humiliated.  I went straight to the loo, to check if my undies were still there and also to cry.


My granny heard about this.  She put her silver hair in a bun, powdered her face, put on her pearls and walked straight into the principal’s office.  She never told me what they talked about.  It did not matter.


I told myself that I would NEVER volunteer for anything again.  The next morning, the principal asked for someone to carry the box of keys from school to the church every day.  Traditionally, this was the job reserved for the head prefect.  I was 3 years too young.  But, guess who stuck their little hand in the air again?  Yip!


I carried that box proudly every day.


That was my training.  My training to stretch myself to do uncomfortable and scary things. 


What are the things YOU wish you could stick your hand up to do?  I can tell you honestly, that even if kids think you have no undies on, you can still be president.


Go on!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s