Embarrassing School Physical; Third Grade.Does anyone remember their school physicals from grade school? In my home country, we used to have at least one every year (2 if we were having a sports check up). Ours could be really embarrassing, because we sometimes had to take our examinations in the same room as the boys.
Here’s how it worked. Between the grades 1 and 3, we were ushered in two lines into the changeroom, where two nurses got us ready for our medicals; girls on the right side and boys on the left. This was where things started to get embarrassing. The boys only had to remove their shirts and singlets, but we had to stripp all the way down to our panties. I’m not exactly sure why this was, but I clearly recall the nurse telling us to take off our vests and socks along with everything else. Looking back, I think there must have been an unofficial policy to examine the girls more closely.
There was no partition in the room at that time, so the boys got to see us undressing on the other side of the room. After we’d taken everything off, we had to fold our clothes in a neat piles and leave them on the wall side bench. It’s hard to describe how embarrassing it was, standing there in nothing but our little cotton panties, waiting for the doctor to call us into the clinic. All of my friends agreed it wasn’t fair that the boys got to keep their most of their clothes on, while we had to mill about in our underpants.
When the doctor (Roberts, I think his name was) was ready to see us, the boys sat down on the left side while the girls were told to line up and wait their turn. The “clinic” was at the far end of the changeroom, a brightly lit space with a table, some chairs and a set of scales. There was also a folding screen next to the doctor’s chair, in case anyone needed a more "thorough" examination.
I have extremely vivid memories of my third grade physical, because we were at that age when we were getting self-conscious about our bodies. Like most of my friends, I was blushing to my hairline and trying to hide my underpants by crossing my hands in front. A couple of girls picked up their vests and tried to hold them around their waists, but the nurse told them to stop being silly, and made them wait with their undies on open display.
By now, you’re probably wondering what kind of panties we were wearing. Back in those days, there were no thongs or g-strings for little girls, so most of us were wearing plain cotton full briefs. The majority wore pastel-colored knickers with elastic waistbands, while a few of the “older” girls had floral prints with a little pink bow at the front. I was wearing white cotton pants with a picture of Strawberry Shortcake on the bottom (I remember this because they were my favorite pair). One of my friends, Katrina, had on a pair of bright red nylon briefs that shimmered under the lights every time she moved. Naturally, she stood out amongst the crowd, and was the subject of playground discussion for the next few days.
Over the next fifteen minutes or so, Doctor Roberts called us up to his table one by one. When my turn came, I walked up to the scales in my snowy white panties, feeling every eye in the room on me. My tummy was fluttering with butterflies, and for a while I felt like I was watching myself from a different perspective (this used to happen to me a lot when I was young). Stepping up onto the scales, I held my arms up in the air while one nurse weighed me and the other took my measurements. My heart was literally pounding against my chest, because my entire body seemed to be completely on view, as if I was stark naked. I wasn’t really, of course, but that was how it felt.
After the nurses had finished with me, the Doctor asked me my name, then checked it off on his medical form. I instinctively went to cross my hands in front again, but he told me to hold them by my side while he checked my breathing (it’s odd how a stethoscope always feels cold, no matter how many warm little bodies it touches).
He asked me numerous questions during the examination, mainly about my family and general health, instructing me to turn round while he examined my spine. I practically fainted on the spot, knowing that I’d be facing my entire class at that second. It’s strange: I suspected that worse was yet to come, but seeing everybody staring at me in my fresh white knickers was embarrassing beyond all desc
For some reason, my examination went on much longer than anyone else’s. Completing the preliminary physical, the Doctor got me to perform some flexability exercises. At one point, he made me bend over and touch my toes, revealing my pantied bottom to all and sundry. I must have been blushing from heel to crown by that time, knowing that my panties had been viewed from every possible angle. When he instructed me to spead my feet as wide as possible and place my palms flat on the floor, my pristine white gusset went on display to the whole wide world. Treacherous giggles bubbled up from the girls’ side of the room, even Katrina of the Red Pants was snickering to herself.
Having humilated me beyond human endurance, Doctor Roberts then proceeded to examine every inch of my body with a magnifying scope, fine-combing his way over my neck, back, chest, thighs and stomach. He even looked into my tummy-button, turning my waistband down at the front to get a better view. To this day, I have no idea what he was looking for or what he expected to find. Whatever it was, it was the most comprehensive medical I’d ever had up to that point. When he finally finished (after what felt like half a million years) he made another note in his report and sent me back to the girls’ line.
Walking across the room in my bare knickers, that strange, disembodied sensation swept over me again, twice as strong as before. I could actually see myself pattering over the floor, a sleek, plump little girl with long blond hair and deeply dimpled bottom cheeks. My belly seemed to be melting with warm, liquid heat. It seemed so terribly unfair; none of my friends had spent so much time in their panties, parading about before half the third grade.
I brushed shoulders with Katrina at the half-way mark; it was her turn with the Doctor, and she looked even more reluctant than I’d been ten minutes before. Her bottom jostled along in tight little circles, highlighted by her glimmering scarlet panty-pants. I wondered how long she'd be under the stethoscope, breathing a sigh of relief that my ordeal was over.
Well – not exactly. For some inexplicable reason, we weren’t allowed to get get dresssed again until the last girl had been examined. There were at seven more girls to go, meaning that the free show would continue for at least the next twenty minutes (if not more).
Well, that’s the story of my third grade physical. From the fourth grade on, we underwent segregated examinations, but they turned out to be just as harrowing (especially our sixth grade physical, where some of us were measured up for signs of “maturity”) I have plenty more tales from my misspent youth, please leave a message if you’d like me to post more.