I was six years old. I was in first grade, and there was some kind of celebration—I can't remember if it was Spring Day or what—but we had to perform, and my character had to wear blue pantyhose (I remember that color like it was yesterday). My dad drove my mom and me there. I was wearing the pantyhose, and over them, shorts and a t-shirt (that's how we had to be for the performance). He dropped us off and went on to work. We went into the school. After the performance, we went back to the classroom, and we had the chance to take off our pantyhose, but I was embarrassed to take off my shorts and have them see my underwear, so I didn't. When we left, my mom told me we weren't going home but to my aunt's house. I wanted to die. It was embarrassing enough walking the three blocks from school to my house, but going to my aunt's? On public transport? Dressed like this? It was unbearably shameful. Strangely, I didn't tell my mom. Yes, it sounds crazy, but that's how kids' minds work, I guess: I was too embarrassed to tell my mom I was embarrassed. In my confusion, it didn't even occur to me to suggest going back to school and changing in the bathroom. I said nothing.

So we walked a couple of blocks to the bus stop. We got on. It wasn't packed, but there weren't any free seats, so I had to stand. There was a girl sitting in front of me who kept looking at me, then at my legs, then back at my face. Suddenly, she smiled at me. I must have been bright red with embarrassment. But the truth is, I never really knew what was going through that girl's mind: did she think I was another girl (at that age, it's not hard for clothes to make the person)? Or did she think I was a boy who liked to dress as a girl? Both possibilities were embarrassing, at least for me and at least at that age. After 20 interminable minutes, we arrived at our destination, and, horrified, I realized another, much bigger problem: my cousin, five years older than me, was going to see me like this! He was going to make fun of me for the rest of my life!

I walked the three blocks from the bus stop to my aunt's house with the resignation of someone facing the inevitable, like a condemned man walking to the gallows. We rang the doorbell, and my aunt opened the door. If she noticed the tights, it didn't cause her the slightest surprise or, as I thought, scandal. We went inside, and the best news was that my cousin wasn't there.

So I finally went to the bathroom and took off the damn pantyhose!

That was the first time I'd ever worn pantyhose in public. I have to admit, in retrospect, it was a most exciting experience!

Part of the things that made me what i am today