There are two parts to this story. the scissors and the girdle. First the scissors.
I was a budding blossoming round pretty girl at 10. We had a fifth grade picnic coming up that was a huge deal. We were going to St. Louis in a bus for the day. We would eat lunch there and spend the day at the zoo. It was a really, really big deal to a tiny village girl like myself. My life was spent in a 3 mile area of my house. I went to school. I came home. Only the tv and books gave me access to the outside world. We were hill-top people. We kept to ourselves.
I wanted a pair of shorts to wear on the trip. I wanted to look like everybody else and not wear one of my dreadful pinafores with the gathered skirt and sash. I wanted a shirt and shorts. Casual wear they called it back then. My grandmother sewed. She has a wonderful mysterious treadle sewing machine that I was in love with and huge shears that were only used for sewing. You just didn't touch any of her things ever. We only lived in three little rooms, but we NEVER went into her room, never crossed that threshold, never touched her things. I didn't actually dare stand at the curtain and peek in unless she was there. I kept out. But when she was sewing and had the drawers open. I crept close as I dare and watched her sew.
I wanted shorts, this was the sixties and girls started wearing them, showing their thighs. I decided to send away to Sears for a pattern and some yellow cotton broadcloth. I would sew my first clothes. I had some birthday money, I stuffed real dollar bills and some change in an envelop and sent it off to Sears.
So then the package came and I was so excited. I got the pattern out and read the directions. Grandmother would not help me with any part of it. She said I would break her machine. I said I would sew it by hand! She said I couldn't use her scissors. I said I had a pair! I did too. a tiny rounded pair of nearly useless elementary scissors with no point. I laid the fabric out on the floor. It took up most of the walking space in front of the TV. Grandma and mom watched my progress, hands on their hips, silent and unhelpful. I matched the grain. I deciphered the arrows. I had cut the pattern pieces apart and had figured out how to pin them. I had it all laid out correctly as far as I could see. And I started in sawing at one corner with my little scissors. It was slow going, they were small and not sharp. It got a little ragged as I worked at it.
My grandpa came in. "What is Rosie doing?"
She's trying to cut out something to sew.
Why is she using those stupid scissors,.?
Grandma won't let me have her pair, Grandpa.
She'll break them.
For God's sake woman! Let her use your scissors. Why do you have to be like that?
And he goes over to the cabinet and produces the prized pair of clothing shears and hands them to me. Wow.. they are heavy and sharp. And they go through the cloth so easily... That's a huge improvement.
She glares at me. and hisses. I don't have a way to replace them if you break them. You are not using my sewing machine!
I cut out the shorts, give them back to her and look over at the sewing machine. NO YOU DON"T!
So I take needle and thread and sit on my little green stool and I hand stitch the shorts together. It's not so bad. I have good skills and make tiny lock stitches and set in my first ever zipper. My first ever pockets. My first ever waistband and hook and eye. My first ever hems. I have a pair of modern gorgeous, bright yellow shorts.
I try them on.
They are a size too small. I had grown since the package was ordered and came. I had blossomed out a bit more in the butt. My size 8 butt was now a 10. the zipper would not close. the waist band did not quite meet. I had a week to get skinny enough to fit in those shorts.
Get that child a girdle! Grandpa says. so Mom gives me one of her smaller girdles and it's soo tight. I can't breathe but I can zip up the shorts.
I will wear them. I will. But I run an extra line of stitching up the back seam just in case...
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The school trip got closer.
My friend Mary Margaret had asked me to stay over to her house and go to the school trip with her the next day. She wasn't a very good friend, and her brother was creepy and her dad was a drunk and they lived in a converted garage and they had gone to the Catholic school for grades one to three. so she was an outsider in our school, but I went anyway.
We had started this fad in our little school, this new thing called a sleep over. It had swept our grade and the girls were doing it in twos and threes. It was exciting, going to other people's houses. I had packed my little suitcase that they had let met take with my precious shorts and the girdle and some napkins in case I got my period for the first time and a bra, because they had sent a note home telling my mother that I needed one for gym class. She got me a boned long line bra that was very constricting. I did not bounce in it while doing jumping jacks, with that and the girdle on, I did not move at all.
Her house was weird on the inside. It had a picture of Jesus with his heart all throbbing out at you, like a vampire had gotten to it. There was a huge shaving strop over the door that was wicked and cruel looking. Her mother and father were nervous for some reason that I didn't understand.
Her grandfather owned that garage, the land across the street, the orchards down the way, and some land in town. He was a fearful figure in the town, used to getting his way. It seemed to me that her ma and pa shrank when he came in to visit. Her ma was wringing her hands a bit.
Mary Margaret has told me that her Grandpa liked to come in to say good night to the girls that stayed over with her, and that I should not be scared but to keep my clothes on under my nightgown. OH Okay. I thought. that's interesting. So I put on my girdle and my long line bra and my night gown and got into bed.
Then he came in to say Goodnight. He sat on my bed and told me I was a good girl. He patted my hair. That felt nice. No one said things like that to me. He patted my shoulder. My goodness he was a nice man. So soothing. So affectionate. He kissed my forehead.
He patted my breasts and ran into bone and bondage. He rubbed down my tummy and up my legs and ran into spandex and elastic. "What have you got on?" He sounded angry. 'Just my underwear?"
He gave me two five dollar bills and told me to tell no one about tonight. I told him I wouldn't. and then he left, slamming the bedroom door and then the outer door.
I hopped out of bed and we turned on the light and did a little dance together. Five dollars!!! OMG. She said I should share with her, cause it was her grandpa. I thought about it and decided that was fair. and handed one bill over to her.
The next day we treated ourselves to things at the zoo. I wore my yellow shorts. and tried to stand next to David that I had a crush on. My first ever shorts, my first ever crush. I was so innocent.
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I'll skip the telling of the fanciful bus trip to the big city and how we hung out the windows and stared and exclaimed over the exotic people with their neon hairdos and black skin. We were as excited over looking at them as the animals in the zoo, and thought of them much the same way; with wide eyed wonder having only seen them before in pictures or newscasts.
I'll bring us safely back home where my grandpa picked me up in the truck none the worse for wear for having ventured out into the big world.
My shorts had ripped open and I wore a sweater down round them.. They went into the rag bag, with the zipper cut out and saved. Later they would make a fresh appearance as pinwheel stars in a quilt.
I immediately told my mother about Mary Margaret's grandfather kissing my forehead and saying goodnight. She thought it was amusing. She said. "You've got a boy friend." I said, "No, David likes another girl, I found out on the trip."
No, I mean the old man.
What? I was confused.
He likes you. Maybe you'll get married.
What? Like you and Daddy did? I don't like him., he smells of beer and cigars. and his face is scratchy
Monday at school, Mary Margaret tells me that her Grandfather wanted to know where I lived and wanted to see me again. I asked if she had told him. She said her mother had.
I told my mother. I don't want to see this guy! He's supposed to come out after school today.
Mother said, ' Don't be stupid. He's rich. He might give you money. Be nice to him." She thinks its funny.
She's laughing at me.
The dust is up along the road. Sure enough there is a pick up truck coming down the driveway. Out gets that old wrinkled up sun weathered guy. He's got his cigar in his hand. He's got a big box of chocolates in the other.
I'm out in the driveway frozen in place. I watch as he approaches. I get off my swing and step back a bit.
"You're a sweet little thing." he coos at me. Then my mother comes out.
and then he turned.
Who is this? he looks at her with approval.
That's my mother! I shout
She approaches him with a conciliatory smile.
Well hello there! My goodness you have big ones. And he brushes his hand out to the buttons on her dress and grazes her nipples.
Her smile fades. Her pleasant face just melts with disgust and dismay. It's not so funny now.
I'd come to visit with your little gal here. but now that I see you..."
He tries to hand her the chocolates.
I think you'd better leave. Come on Rosie, we are going inside.
