Never once did I wear pants or jeans after my 12th birthday. When I wore hose, I almost always wore a suspender belt to hold them up, even if they wer... stay-ups. I didn't mind if, when I sat or bent over, the skirt hem rode up a bit and displayed my stocking tops or welts. I loved knowing that I had an effect on men that I could use to 'level' the playing field, so to speak. Other women may have looked at me with disgust, hatred, or envy, but I didn't care - I had no problem using my physical. I can see how long a youth takes to place his ‘green’ on the neat pile, and pick up a ‘red’. Such a little detail, but such an important one. I breakfasted on muesli and fruit as the boy worked. Often, as he passed, he shot me a little glance, whilst being careful not to stare. What did the glance say? ‘How am I doing?’ I suppose. He would have gleaned nothing from my expression to answer that question. 790 is undoubtedly in receipt of regular feedback from his rugby coaches and peers. I am. More

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