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By Kelly
Ann Malone
There
comes a time in some girls' lives when modesty
is forced to take a backseat.
When
your most prized possession is subject to cold steel and a dollop
of lubricant.
Inner
thighs still creased from constant crossing are given liberation,
and self decency is asked to take a powder.
Forget
for a brief moment your reserved existence and open up with confidence,
you have not sinned today.
This
space, which we have spent most of our years trying to conceal and
protect from the deluge of curious gawkers, is exposed without hesitation
and prodded by antiseptic fingers. A necessary violation.
We are
expected to hide our feelings of propriety while fervently being asked
to scoot down ... scoot down ... a little more.
Some of us find no angst in the event. How I envy them. Blessed with
the liberal gene.
They
also had no problems stripping in PE, and were not shocked when they
first menstruated.
As I
age, I feel compelled to accept this ritual of indecency and go with
the flow.
While
I am never ready to offer up my dignity, I know it is essential.
