Strollerderby
Hate Gym? Bribe Your Teacher For $1 To Sit Out
yesterday. The locker room always had a
particular smell of old sweat and unwashed clothes and moldy showers, and it
was where we changed out of our clothes into horrible polyester navy blue
shorts and unflattering blue-and-white striped (horizontal, of course)
shirts. At least the old one-piece jumpsuits
from the 60′s had been consigned to use only if your own gym clothes were forgotten,
something I vowed never to do, accomplished easily enough if you never took
your gym clothes home at all for washing.
Then there were the girls, most of them already well-developed and
flaunting it in sparkling white bras. I
was a year younger than everyone, and thin, and had to beg my mom to get me a
bra to cover my flat chest just so I could maintain a modicum of modesty while
changing.
Gym itself was another nightmare entirely. Not being particularly athletic, I was
relegated to the last-picked in any team event, just me and the remaining girls:
the fat, the very thin, the geeky, the ones with coke-bottle glasses. Girls with their periods could sit out for a
day or two, some stretching this into practically the entire month, but the
rest of us were forced daily to play dodge ball and inane relay races and throw
basketballs at one another
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