My fashion faux pas wasn't a nationally televised wardrobe malfuntion but it was mortifyingly embarrassing.
I hadn't "filled out" yet, which in 1969 terms meant I didn't have much in the boob department. Like many girls, I remedied nature's slight with some Kleenex stuffed in my size-A bra cups.
That night I was headed to a dance in the junior high gym. Girls still couldn't wear pants to school, but our skirts and dresses were short. For that reason, we liked to wear shorts underneath.
I slipped on a brand-new dress with a flippy skirt, perfect for turns. The U-shaped neckline was a little low, so I bolstered my bra with more portable padding. Not exactly Raquel Welch, but not Twiggy either.
The gym was sweaty-hot in those pre-air conditioned days. After a couple of fast dances, I prayed my Secret roll-on was doing its job. I lifted my dress away from my wet skin and bent forward to catch my breath. A big wad of damp Kleenex fell to the floor. Now what?
Before I could react, a cute boy with sandy hair scooped up the wad and said, "Somebody dropped this."
Arms across my lopsided chest, I remarked, "Oooh. That's gross. Throw it away." I sped to the girls' bathroom to flush my remaining enhancement down the toilet. The next day Pop drove me to Sears to buy a real padded bra. Fake but securely fake breasts for me.
— Suztek
I hadn't "filled out" yet, which in 1969 terms meant I didn't have much in the boob department. Like many girls, I remedied nature's slight with some Kleenex stuffed in my size-A bra cups.
That night I was headed to a dance in the junior high gym. Girls still couldn't wear pants to school, but our skirts and dresses were short. For that reason, we liked to wear shorts underneath.
I slipped on a brand-new dress with a flippy skirt, perfect for turns. The U-shaped neckline was a little low, so I bolstered my bra with more portable padding. Not exactly Raquel Welch, but not Twiggy either.
The gym was sweaty-hot in those pre-air conditioned days. After a couple of fast dances, I prayed my Secret roll-on was doing its job. I lifted my dress away from my wet skin and bent forward to catch my breath. A big wad of damp Kleenex fell to the floor. Now what?
Before I could react, a cute boy with sandy hair scooped up the wad and said, "Somebody dropped this."
Arms across my lopsided chest, I remarked, "Oooh. That's gross. Throw it away." I sped to the girls' bathroom to flush my remaining enhancement down the toilet. The next day Pop drove me to Sears to buy a real padded bra. Fake but securely fake breasts for me.
— Suztek
(NOTE: This is "Macoff" from the curren 40Days crop of Dippers): OMG, that's funny. AND I can relate. I had kleenex in my bra for a date with a good-looking guy I hardly knew, the brother of a friend. We were making out in his car... and he wanted to go further. But I had kleenex in my bra, which meant I had to ACT LIKE A GOOD GIRL when I really would rather have not! HA. So my reputation was "saved" for the moment, but not for the right reason!
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