Quote Originally Posted by prey4me
Slave80210, your wall-flower character type intrigues me, really! You have the Great Overlooked Victim Cliche! Honestly, I have played with (pun) such a character in my mind off and on: sometimes romantically, sometimes sadistically, and I could easily adapt her to the wallflower you seem to have in mind. My character (no plot line, yet--too busy with other stuff) is something like this: a dark-haired, green-eyed girl, hair to her shoulders, she styles it carefully, a little too much so, and her curls are kind of a decades-ago throwback. Glasses. Pretty, but not conspicuously so, not until you're pretty close to her. Likes to wear sweaters and wool skirts--not uniform type, but A-lines and dirndles. Thus, she tends to wear fairly heavy (rich satin) full slips under these things. (I love satin slips!)
Reminiscing a little here -- when I was young, my mother had very definite ideas about the type of underwear suitable for me and my sisters, and her own notions about the importance of keeping one's derriere warm in winter and cool in summer. At the beginning of each summer she would buy yards and yards of brown cotton that should would take along to a dressmaker. The dressmaker's brief was to sew five pairs of full bloomers each for us, with elastic waists and legs. No lace, no frills, just plain brown cotton bloomers. At the beginning of winter she'd do the same, except with prickly brown wool.

I hated winter because I was allergic to wool and suffered for years until I discovered the wool allergy itch went away if I wore a pair of my cotton summer bloomers underneath the woollen ones.

At this time in history, new and colorful girls' panties were appearing in the shop. Bikinis were popular and bloomers were definitely out in a fashion sense. None of this bothered my mother, of course, because she wasn't the least bit interested in fashion.

By the time I entered high school (an exclusive private girls' school in a wealthy neighborhood) no trendy girl even knew what bloomers were. In hindsight though, I think my mother chose this school because brown was the color of the regulation underwear that was supposed to be worn. The regulation design was full briefs, but my mother, in a rare moment of rebellion, decided that my brown bloomers were close enough. Oh how I pined for a pair of brown cotton full briefs!

Things came to a crisis point one wintry day at school when the sports mistress noticed that girls changing into the shcool's brown sports shorts and shirt were wearing colorful briefs and bikinis and not the regulation brown full briefs. Shock! Horror! Disgrace! Lines were written and detentions handed out, but not for me. I always wore my brown sports shorts under my woolen tunic on sports day to hide the fact I had bloomers for briefs.

Disaster struck when the Principal (a stern and forthright woman, even by my mother's standards) declared the whole school parade their underwear one rainy lunch hour in the middle of winter.

All girls were ordered to remove their clothes and march into the school hall and have their underwear checked to ensure it conformed with the school uniform regulations. As fate would have it on that particular day, I was wearing a rather old pair of brown woollen bloomers over an even older pair of brown cotton ones under these to prevent the wool itch. Luckily I was also wearing a cotton singlet and a wollen spencer over that and so the underwear parade didn't alarm me with any fears of being seen half naked.

The other girls were all in purple, floral or psychedelic bikinis or pretty panties. Me in my droopy-drawers felt so jealous of them. There wasn't a singlet or spencer in sight. Some of them had pretty bras and some had to march into the hall with arms over their bare breasts.

Well, as you can imagine everybody hooted with laughter at the sight of me in my voluminous bloomers and tatty old singlets. They stopped laughing with the school Principal declared by brown monstrosities OK and no punishment was required because my underwear was the right color and provided decent coverage (although she did suggest my mother buy me newer underwear).

It being a cold Winter's day and all, and the underwear parade taking 40 minutes or so, I was the only warm girl in school that day and actually was, for once, actually quite grateful for my mother's insistence on woollen underwear.

The whole parade ordeal was, however, quite traumatizing for many a young girl. Some because they had to flash skin and shiver a lot and for me because everybody now knew the embarrassing state of my underwear. From that day forth, I swore that as soon as I had money of my own I would always buy attractive underwear in case I should ever be forced to participate in a situation where I had to parade in it, or to save embarrassment should I be hit by a bus and a paramedic or two need to cut it off.

kinkabella