Struggling to rescue myself

[In my last entry, I wrote about how I intentionally destroyed a pair of black tights that actually fit me.  I did it because I wanted "OUT" of this fetish.  I felt it was doing a number on me, making me less appealing to girls even though they didn't know I was wearing them.  In actuality, I was dead right.  It wasn't the tights fetish, but the self imposed ANXIETY over having it.  If I'd accepted and embraced it discreetly, there wouldn't have been any problem.  But this inner struggle affected my confidence in more ways than one.  In some respects, I let the tights fetish stifle a tremendous amount of potential, negatively affecting the course of my life for years to come.]

I stood there, looking at the cut-up shreds of what was once a decent pair of black tights.  Part of me felt sad about it, but a stronger part of me felt this was the right thing to do.  Like a baby who finally sheds his blanket, it was time that I stopped wearing tights.  And why let temptation challenge this?  Any wearable pair of tights available to me would taunt and tease my mind until I'd finally cave in and wear them again.

* * * * * * * *

About a week ago, I was riding in someone's car.  This was a family that was friends with my family.  They have two boys, one about my age.  He and I weren't pals because we lived far enough away by bicycle and in completely different school systems, so it wouldn't be easy to get together.  Plus, we had rather different personalities.  I don't think either of us were feeling like being friends is a high priority.  Anyway, he's in the front seat, his dad is driving, and I'm in the back seat.  I'm wearing black tights under my jeans and the air is warm enough in the car that I'm beginning to notice the tights more.  They weren't uncomfortable, just warming up enough to notice them.  So, Arnie is talking about some girl he was interested in at school.  He had mentioned a few things about her, then said something that perked up my interest--she is studying ballet.  Arnie apparently likes her and is trying to figure out a way to make contact.  His father gives him some very basic advice, but Arnie then mentions a boy in her dance class that she seems very close with, and he's not sure if he's a boyfriend or not.  That's when his younger brother sitting next to me says something like "I don't think you've got anything to worry about, Arnie.  Boys who take ballet are all gay.  Just look at them, they wear friggin' tights!  Hahahahaha."  His dad didn't like what he said, but Arnie agreed with him and laughed.  I sat there, wearing my tights, and feeling like a complete loser.

* * * * * * * *

With that experience fresh in my head again, I quickly put on the black tights and without hesitation, put the scissors to them and figuratively cut myself free.

I felt good.  I felt manly.  I put this God damned fetish behind me.  No more tights to wear.  I will make a point of getting a porno magazine, even if I have to steal it, and learn to masturbate to the pictures of naked women.  And I will not let myself gaze at the tights covered legs of my attractive female classmates.  This is good.  I am going to be alright.  I really am.

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.

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.

Care to cross dress?

Like I'd said earlier, the only thing that really interested me with girl's clothes is tights.  Frilly lace panties, bras, shoes, dresses... none of that appealed to me.  So, when one of the counselors at camp wanted me to participate in his spoof play where all the women were really guys dressed in drag, I wasn't all that hip about it.  That is, until I heard that we'd be wearing tights!

[Unfortunately, I have no recollection of what the play was or the plot.  All I recall is that it was about six women who had some funny things to say, and it went on about 30 minutes before all was said and done.  I won't be able to elaborate much more, but will do the best I can.]

 We had like three rehearsals and one dress rehearsal.  The director of the play, Ricky, was definitely having a good time with all this.  I had a feeling he might be gay, based on some of his mannerisms.  It didn't bother me, as he didn't bug me with any flirting.  Confirmation came once we had our dress rehearsal.  I never saw Ricky light up so much, with getting everybody's costumes figured out and fitted.  I ended up in a rather lean form fitting dress that ended about midway up my thighs.  On my feet were flats and on my legs were those white tights from my Mouse That Roared costume.  I was bummed that there were no brown tights in store, or some sleek pantyhose, but I couldn't be too picky.

On performance night, Ricky came into full form.  He was the director but he also took a role in the play too.  When he got his outfit and makeup on in private, we were wondering what would emerge.  Then in a crazy moment, we saw what he'd done and it confirmed what we always suspected:

Openly wearing tights

It was a while... a whole year, until the next summer when I was at camp again.  The drama director got me hooked and I auditioned for a few plays.  I got into two of them, with the lead role in one that would have some interesting costuming involved.

Well, at one point I'm in medieval garb that consisted of a long blue tunic tied to the waist, coming down to just over my crotch.  On my legs?  White tights.  On my feet?  Brown boots.  Tights and boots.  I loved it.  Not only did I get to wear this, twice in dress rehearsal and once on the stage, I was wearing tights openly among other people.  I know... just a costume.  But nevertheless it was a kind of breakthrough for me.

Carrie's reclamation

Carrie, the camp director's wife, came by the theater building and asked about her brown tights.  Uh oh... I didn't realize it, but apparently they were borrowed for the theater production.  Well, they were nowhere to be found, of course.  They were hanging on a tree out in the forest!  ;-)

Carrie wasn't too happy about it.  I don't know why, as tights aren't very expensive.  Certainly she could buy some more.  Or were they some rare tights that are difficult to find?  Anyway, the theater director had everybody start searching for them in the changing and costume rooms.  Naturally, they weren't found.

Later, I went back to the tree and untied the tights.  I figured that maybe I should return them, but by this point they were starting to get a little smelly, like mold.  Probably from getting wet and hanging in the wild.  I should wash them first.  I stuffed the tights into the brown paper bag I brought, then went up to the theater building rest room.  Using some hand soap, I washed the tights in the sink, rinsed them, and wrung them out.  Finally, I found a moment to sneak into the costuming room, then hung the tights on a hangar, wedged between a couple of clothes.  They'd probably dry by the next day and could then be "found"...

* * * Blog will slow down now * * *

I've got other things going on that is now making it difficult to post every day.  Plus, I've got so very few views and absolutely no comments, so nobody is really reading this anyway...

I may post once a week now, if that.