Mustering up the nerve

[After I destroyed the black tights, I was firm about keeping my fetish suppressed.  I was convinced that suppressing it would cause it to wither, like a plant without water.  Every once in a while, I'd see an attractive girl wearing a very sexy pair of tights (usually black, sometimes red), and I wouldn't be able to help myself liking the look.  But I was determined not to let the fetish get the best of me.]

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It's been a while since I wrote in this.  I didn't date the last entry, so I'm not sure.  Could be a couple of years.  Well, the last thing I'd done was to destroy the black tights.  I was really good about keeping tights out of my mind.  I still haven't had a steady girl friend.  I've dated a little, but no sparks.  One girl was into me, but she wasn't as pretty as I wanted.  I'm in love with Farrah Fawcett.  Lee Majors is so damned lucky!  I have several posters of Farrah in my room.  Anyway, it kind of makes it difficult finding lesser girls attractive.  I should probably take down the posters.

Anyway, I don't know how it happened, but I got weak about tights.  I saw this girl wearing a nice dark red pair of tights and they looked so terrific.  And then she took one of her shoes off and started rubbing her foot.  It wasn't like her foot was in pain; it was more like she just liked caressing her tights clad foot.  She rolled her foot around in a circle, over and over... it was kind of hypnotic.  I stared.  And then I sensed something, raising my head up to look, and she caught me starting at her foot.  She kind of gave me a half-smile.  I quickly looked away in embarrassment.  When I looked back she wasn't looking my way any longer and put her shoe back on.  She was standing in a check-out line just one over from where I was.  Her line sped up while mine slowed down.  She checked out and started heading towards the exit.  And then she looked my way for a moment, with no smile.  I looked at her, then she looked away and left.  Wow did she look good in those red tights.  If I'd been brave enough, I'd have left the line and ran to catch up with her.  But what would I say?  "Hey, nice red tights you're wearing!"  Right.

Not so friendly this time

[After my go-round with wearing tights on stage, I didn't get any further opportunities at the camp.  At home, I was still facing the situation of not having any tights to wear that fit.]

My sister was still taking ballet classes, although from the chatter I heard between her and mom, she was losing interest in it.  She had also started to get careless with her belongings, like losing her ballet shoes.  A friend of hers had a spare pair that fit, so that saved the day.  But then at one point, she could not find her pink dance tights.  No, it wasn't me, honest!  Hahahaha.  Really, I'd have no interest in them, not only because of the color, but because they would barely fit (I tried them on once) and they had that back seam on the leg with extra reinforcement in the foot that looked awful to me.

Exposure to ballet

After school, mommy would take us to the YMHA-YWHA for activities (Hebrew version of YMCA).  I was very interested in ceramics.  My sister was too, but mommy wanted her to study ballet.  She started classes at age 7.  She wore a black leotard and pink tights.  At first I was curious about the tights, but I didn't like the color.  Plus, I was taller than her and I knew they wouldn't fit.  I had no interest in the leotard.