I tend to be very careful about what underwear and clothes I wear on certain days. For example if I think somebody might be seeing my underwear, I tend to pick from my more fetching variety of briefs or if I'm sure nobody will be seeing them because most days I do tend to keep my clothes on, I choose from my older, less smart selection.
Arrogantly, I have left the fear of a boy randomly lifting up my skirt back in my primary school days with duck duck goose and likes and unfortunately, just last Friday, on one of my rotten old underpants day, my assumption of no eyes on me and my briefs took a turn for the worse.
On my not very common visit to the doctors, I unpleasantly had to reveal my true harry high pants style.
After discussing my scolliosis with old Doc Tocker, he unexpedely asked me to take off my dress so he could assess the severity. Not to worry I first thought, although I'm under prepared by wearing this old g-banger underneath my SHEER stockings which I have pulled up so high I'm surprised I needed to wear a bra, I'm also wearing a long singlet top to cover the atrocities.
"That one too." he says bluntly.
Fiddle sticks I think to myself as I remove the top to reveal the unpleasant scene of me in a bra, gstring and see through stockings.
Doc Tockers then walks behind me "Ok, just bend forward really slowly."
He's a professional, he's a professional, he's a professional.
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