Rags and Chauvinism turn to Riches and Honor of the Feminine. 

A TRUE STORY.  Most of the names have been altered to protect the guilty .


Part 1.

I was almost always a child of smiles and meekness. When I was only about
three and a half years old I remember my mother taking me to a student's day
parade. Most were dressed in funny costumes but one man was dressed as a
ballerina with a white tutu. I was shocked but my mother explained that this
was just for fun and that men can't usually wear women's clothes. Then she
explained further that it was ok for women to wear men's clothes but it was
not ok for men to wear women's clothes. I remember saying "that's not fair!"
but mum laughed saying that no real man would want to wear a woman's clothes
anyway. My smiling disposition was twisted with indignation at the unfairness
of that situation and I think that one of the many spirits that I have
struggled with all of my life entered me at that time. At six years of age I
remember seeing that a few of the stronger boys could climb all the way up the
playground swings support poles but the girls couldn't, and neither could I.
No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get more than a couple of feet up. I
remember feeling quite embarrassed and indignant when a certain girl managed
to climb twice as high as me. I determined to work at it until I could at
least match that feat, but when someone fell and hurt themselves a lady
teacher decided that the children weren't allowed to climb on the swing poles
any more. I wanted so much to match that girl's height but when I tried, a
couple of girls said they'd tell on me if I didn't stop, so that "defeat" was
suppressed inside too. When I was about seven, mum had us transferred to a
private school and my Teacher was a very demanding Lady called Miss Gallacher.
She always favored the girls and She had and old leather strap used almost
exclusively for punishment of the boys. I must confess that though I was
bright, I was also quite impudent and loved to speak in class or point out
errors when the Teacher wrote on the board. It was often a riot of fun. One
time when I was made to stand behind Her so I'd be out of Her sight while She
was writing on the black board, I felt so indignant and mischievous that I
snaffled a piece of chalk and, very lightly, drew a design on Her backside. It
took quite a while to get it done when drawing so lightly but I was delighted
at the stifled amusement from most of the class. Of course Penelope La Loud,
the Teacher's pet put her hand up and told on me "please Miss, Jack Hansomson
is writing on your bum!" I had a crush on Penelope and I felt more crushed by
her "betrayal" than by the inevitable strapping that followed. The fact that I
was disciplined with that old belt sometimes twice a day seemed to make me
even more determined to respond with rebellion and to make a comical nuisance
of myself. We used to get strapped on the hand with one or two strokes that
really hurt for a few seconds but it wasn't too bad.

It was a different story in Miss Mackie's class. Miss Mackie was our
instructress for music and dance. I really liked her. She had long blonde hair
and was extremely attractive with Her pretty clothes, her sense of humour and
Her swishing ways. Though disconcerting, the swish of Her dress as She
demonstrated a dance step did not have quite as much effect as the swish of
Her disciplining strap. Miss Mackie had a special thick leather "Loch Gelly"
strap which was especially made for inflicting great pain on students who
required discipline. She called it "Bonzo" and loved to demonstrate how hard
and stiff and scary it was by doubling it and standing it up on its tips. Miss
Mackie was very strict in the sense that She demanded perfect obedience to Her
voice and never hesitated to use Her strap for behavior modification. I saw
that strap used on others and I was so scared that I really curtailed my
behaviour and behaved almost perfectly in Her class. She seemed to enjoy
laughing and joking while administering discipline whenever She felt inclined.
Her class was almost always in order. Music goes in the terms A G B D F and
Miss Mackie made us memorize it by repeating "All Good Boys Deserve Flogging"
over and over. Most of the girls of course thought this was hilarious. Some
parent eventually lodged a complaint and She had to change it to "All Good
Boys Deserve Fun" but I never forgot Her first method, especially as, when She
was standing close to me She would rub me and remind me in a mockingly amused
whisper that "all Good Boys Deserve Flogging". I never forgot Her reminder. I
did forget the name of "Bonzo" for most of my adult life and later learned
that I had been so afraid that I had blanked it out using what is called an
alter-ego or an alter for short. Miss Mackie often had contests between the
girls and the boys in which She always favored the girls. If the girls were
behind, somehow the questions seemed to get easier for them and the girls
always ended up winning. It was so unfair! When I tried to point this out, I
was silenced by one of Her "are you going to give Bonzo and I any trouble"
looks followed by a questioningly amused and seemingly innocent smile. I
remember one "contest" where we were informed that two teams were to line up
and the pupils were to run, one at a time, to a point determined by Miss
Mackie, then run back and the next pupil was to run and so on until either the
girls or the boys would win the race. At last! A chance to show that we could
beat the girls at something! I was relatively athletic and I placed myself at
the back of our team so we'd have a good finisher and I'd run in, winning the
race for the boys. I was so pleased and excited. There was an assistant
Teacher in training and I was also anxious to impress Her. I was around nine
years old and already was very attracted by the feminine mystique. The Trainee
had shoulder-length black hair, a stunning figure with terrific curves,
rounded hips and a smile with the most beautiful brown eyes I'd ever seen. She
had naturally batting long lashes and Her smile just seemed to indicate that
she knew something about you that you weren't aware of. Looking back, I do
think that She was dressed rather too provocatively for a children's class,
with Her tight gray skirt, fitted just above the knee. She also had a white
blouse with frilled collar, which did nothing to hide the outline of Her bra
and cleavage. I remember looking at Her while fantasizing that it would be fun
to twang Her bra strap. Seeing Her raise a quizzical eyebrow at me, I thought
to myself "can she read my thoughts?" I was also anxious to impress little
Marie the absolutely beautiful French girl who had just joined the class that
semester. Her hair was also long and black and she already had those
captivating feminine affectations that are so attractive to the male. She was
so sweet and demure and I had an extra strong crush on her already. I actually
had feelings for Penelope, Anne and Marie who were all part of the class but
Marie was the sweetie-pie of my heart at that time. I was about to impress
them all! Miss Mackie, the Trainee Lady, Penelope, Anne, all the other girls
in the class and most of all, my pretty little Marie. I was thrilled with the
prospect of impressing all the "Ladies" with my male prowess! However, things
didn't work out the way I hoped. No doubt prompted by Miss Mackie's
preconceived plan, the Trainee Lady announced with a sly, Dom-style, knowing
smile in my direction that, just to make things more "interesting and
entertaining", we would be adding a little obstacle to the race.

As part of the "obstacles" every runner would have to tie on a plastic
rain-mate on his or her own head before starting. They would have to run to
the appointed point, run back again, untie the rain-mate and hand it over to
the next runner who would then tie it on his or her head own head before
running. It seemed a silly addition to me. The two rain-mates were clear
plastic rain-hats with large colorful imprinted flowers and white laces that
had to be tied under the chin. At first it didn't dawn on me that this would
pose a problem and I remained excited with the prospects of the boys (and
especially me) getting to demonstrate male superiority for once. As the race
progressed it became evident that the boys had trouble tying the bows under
their chins but the girls, for the most part, didn't. ( in the sixties and
seventies females often wore such garments whenever it rained.) To my dismay
the boys' team fell way behind the girls. When the last girl finished the race
and their team sat down giggling triumphantly, I breathed a sigh of relief
that at least I wouldn't have to even run because there were still two boys
ahead of me and there was no point in continuing. However they did continue
and the rain-mate was handed to me. I gestured that we'd just give up, but the
Trainee Lady had other ideas and insisted I finish the last run. I fumbled
with the strings and couldn't tie the required "proper bow" so I just left it
half-tied and started to run. "No!" the voice of the Lady spoke firmly, "It
must be a proper bow!" so I was commanded to return to my place and attempt to
tie a pretty bow under my chin. All the class watched as my face got redder
and redder in my frustration and inability to tie a bow I couldn't see. The
Ladies did seem quite amused and my bows kept coming undone. Finally the
pretty young Trainee Lady approached and with one finger, pushed my chin up
gently and tied the bow for me, smiling patiently at my ineptness. Then She
gestured in Her feminine, limp-wristed but dominant manner that I was to run -
"Now!" I've never felt more embarrassed in all my life. In fact the spirit of
embarrassment and self-consciousness that entered me at that time made its
home in me, entrenching itself with all its associate spirits, for most of my
life and, from then on, I found myself reddening every time a pretty Girl or
Lady looked or spoke to me. It was so unfair but I didn't dare speak up for
fear of "Bonzo the Loch Gelly Strap". I'll never forget how all the "Ladies"
mocked and laughed at me. It had been proved to me that I could be easily
defeated by Girls and I was utterly humiliated.

Little did I know that this was only the beginning.

"Stripes that cause bruises cleanse away evil from the innermost parts."
(Prov20/30)

Continued in part two