The fate of Suburban Tites

I made one last check of my mother's drawer and the yellow tights were not there.  I had no clue as to what she did with them.  Maybe she tossed them?  Maybe my sister did?  Certainly they'd have much less meaning to them than they would to me.  For them, it's just a garment not much different than underwear or socks.  Haven't you ever thrown out a pair of socks you don't wear any more, even though they're still in good enough condition to be worn?  For me, the tights were an extra enjoyment my family would never understand.  To me, they had value. But whatever the case, they were gone.

I made another round of the attic and found nothing.  There was just one last place to look, and that was the top shelves of my sister's closet.  My mother still had some old clothes stashed away up there.  So, with the house to myself, I got a tall chair and started rummaging.  Sure enough, I finally found something promising.  Some garments layered tightly together, with some of them in a black soft nylon material.  There were two pairs of black DANSKIN tights!  I was ecstatic.  I extracted them from the pile and put everything back as it was, climbed down off the chair, put that back, then trotted off to my room.

What a peculiarity.  The waistband tag on one said DANSKIN in large lettering, but on the other, "DANSKIN" was much smaller with a larger "SUBURBAN TITES" lettered above it.  It was funny to see tights spelled that way.  Maybe they ran out of room on the tag?  But what does "Suburban" mean? [I didn't know about this word at the time, how it refers to the outskirts of a large city].  Anyway, the tights were the same size, and about the same in terms of styling.  There were just minor fabric and styling differences.  I quickly shed my clothes and put on the first pair.  They fit pretty well, but the nylon was kind of thick and coarse compared to other tights I'd worn.  These didn't feel like typical soft DANSKIN tights.  Next, I tried on the "SUBURBAN TITES" style.  These were a little better.  The material was softer, but they didn't remain as opaque when stretched more.  But, what should I complain about?  I had two pairs of black tights all to myself!  At least, until...

* * * * * * * *

[About two weeks later, I'd had some kind of social problem... a girl I really liked went cold on me, and I couldn't figure out why.  Asking her very nicely to tell me what I did wrong only seemed to make things worse, as she became more annoyed with me and then outright blew me off when I insisted to know.  Oh the anguish of social subtleties; if you don't get it, you're out of luck.  There are some things you're just expected to get and that's it.  If you don't, then you have to have a friend who is willing and able to explain it.  If not, you're left perpetually in the dark.  Girls have a kind of power over boys and they won't dare let them in on any of their secrets!  It's a form of cruelty, not all that far off from bullying.]

I'd enjoyed the tights a few more times, but with the last one I was particularly angry with myself afterward.  I was feeling like the tights are ruining me somehow, making me less appealing to girls.  They don't know I sometimes wear tights, so how could they possibly sense anything?  And yet... what is it?  I am a good looking boy.  Yeah I'm not as forceful and confident as some other boys.  But dammit... it's those tights that are making me less of a man, right?  I'll bet that is it.

I grabbed the tights out of my special stash spot and looked at them.  I put the less comfortable tights on and stared at myself.  I felt absolutely NOTHING.  No arousal, no "good feeling" like I'd had before.  And that's when the idea came to me.  I went to my mother's room and got a nice big pair of silver metal sewing scissors.  I went back into my room, sat down on my bed and looked at the length from my waist to my toes.  Tights.  "What are these tights doing on my body?  I am a boy, not a girl.  Sorry tights, but you've had it.  I want nothing to do with you anymore."

I took those big sewing scissors, opened them up, positioned the waistband at the "V" and started cutting.  **SNIP** went the waistband.  I kept cutting down my leg, all the way to the foot.  I did the same for the other side.  It would be symbolic.  I am cutting myself free of these tights.  I will not be seduced by them any longer.  They are dead to me.  I let the fabric fall away, showing my naked body.  I then picked up the other "TITES" and prepared to do the same thing, when... I hesitated.  I knew that these were something I was rejoicing about just a few weeks ago.  My mother didn't want these tights, as they were squirreled away with other long forgotten clothes and would eventually be thrown out.  For all that could be said, they were mine now.  And yet, I have destroyed one of them already.  Would I be willing to do that to the other pair too?

I continued to hesitate... and then made a decision.

[to be continued]