So the most fantastic part about going to school in Texas was not that I was surrounded by republicans and rednecks, but that unlike anyone else I’ve met…we had a dress code.
Skirts and shorts couldn’t be higher than 3 inches from your knee. No chains. No piercings other than ears for girls. No piercings for boys. No tattoos. Tanktops had to be larger than an inch on the sleeve. Nostrangehaircutsorhairdyedoddcolors.Noathleticshorts.Guyscouldnotgrowtheirhairlongerthanacollarwouldbeblahblahblahblahblah….
I also had the great luck of being National Junior Honor Society president, which meant nothing except that I got to read off the names of the new inductees. This was really simple, since there were probably only 5 people who had names that were not American. But I was proud of my role and decided to wear my sister’s cute, stretchy skirt to school that day to read off the names in because I thought it made my 14-year-old body look quite sexy. Of course, I paid no attention to the fact that it would ride up ridiculously the moment I walked a step.
I didn’t even make it to my locker before I got pulled into the office and asked to change. I did, and then right before I had to go to the ceremony for the inductees, I changed back into my sexy skirt. Our principal noticed, and he just smiled and told me to keep the skirt down. I didn’t think it was a big deal and shrugged.
The next day on the announcements, one of the pictures from the ceremony had a great shot of my rear. It was then that I realized exactly how whorish a short, tight, tan skirt looks. And I never wore that skirt again…until college at least.
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