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My Aunt Teresa -- for lhansen
Hi. This is a story I have wanted to tell for quite some time, ever since lhansen and some other “old geezers” started talking about the prevalence (or not) of wetting accidents in the late 50s and 60s, when women wore complex “foundation garments” and when “social drinking at parties” was roughly equivalent to what we would now describe as “life-endangering alcoholism.”
I wanted to comment, but on the “old board” women were flamed and driven away whenever they tried to post, so I never said anything about it, but the new board seems to be more courteous, so I will give it a try.
Back then, at parties, it was common for the women to go somewhere, usually a back bedroom, to adjust their make-up, their clothes, and their girdles, etc. Of course, this is the situation where any discussion of wetting would have taken place. You boys would have been strictly barred from such a room, but I was not.
So, in my youth, I really did hear any number of women say things like, “Oh, I nearly had an accident!” I do not actually remember anyone claiming that she really did have an accident, with the exception of one person.
This was my aunt Teresa, a relative from my father’s side of the family. My mother’s side of the family was very traditionally Hispanic, very Catholic, speaking mostly Spanish, but many people from my father’s side, notably Teresa, were becoming quite “modern” and assimilated to Anglo society.
Teresa was in her early 30s when her husband was killed in an automobile accident. In those days, Hispanic widows were supposed to be very modest, focus on the church, and do “good works.” But Teresa, being “modern,” thought differently. Suddenly single and still attractive, she was into having fun. The fact that she worked as a secretary in the loans and grants office of a local university also played a role, since she was constantly exposed to the social ferment of those days. She scandalized the family by shooting her mouth off about how maybe the kids were right about all that “free love” stuff. She soon became even more scandalous by blatantly admitting – especially when drunk – that she was an avid practitioner. My mom would have preferred to just toss her out of the house right on her slutty rear end, but hey, we were Chicano and she was part of the family, so we had to put up with her.
Now, these were the days when younger girls were already wearing nothing much but panties under their skirts, while the older generation still wore nylon stockings, garter belts or girdles, and basically, as lhansen and his friends pointed out, sometimes had a difficult time of it when trying to get all those clasps undone while at the same time dancing up and down on one leg with desperation.
Teresa may have had a modern mind, but at 37 or 38 she still wore very traditional “foundation garments,” which must have truly blown the minds of those with whom she practiced all that “free love.” On two occasions, when we had parties at the house and the gals were in the back room adjusting their hair or their girdles, I really did hear a thoroughly inebriated Aunt Teresa proclaim, “Damn, I just peed in my pants.” I do remember other women, especially my mother, saying, "Oh, you didn't!" or "You shouldn't say such things, that's disgusting!" But we all knew that she really meant it.
On one especially memorable occasion, she had arrived with a new guy, her date of the evening, and soon had consumed enough cocktails to be standing at the bathroom door, wiggling back and forth in the well-known desperation dance.
But then she gave up waiting, went back to her date, and got another drink.
At that point the bathroom door opened, the occupant emerged, and Teresa’s date said, “You can go in now.”
And I know I heard this correctly, but believe it or not, she sort of leaned against her date and said in a quiet voice, “I think it’s a little too late now.”
So that is my story for lhansen and his friends.
I wanted to comment, but on the “old board” women were flamed and driven away whenever they tried to post, so I never said anything about it, but the new board seems to be more courteous, so I will give it a try.
Back then, at parties, it was common for the women to go somewhere, usually a back bedroom, to adjust their make-up, their clothes, and their girdles, etc. Of course, this is the situation where any discussion of wetting would have taken place. You boys would have been strictly barred from such a room, but I was not.
So, in my youth, I really did hear any number of women say things like, “Oh, I nearly had an accident!” I do not actually remember anyone claiming that she really did have an accident, with the exception of one person.
This was my aunt Teresa, a relative from my father’s side of the family. My mother’s side of the family was very traditionally Hispanic, very Catholic, speaking mostly Spanish, but many people from my father’s side, notably Teresa, were becoming quite “modern” and assimilated to Anglo society.
Teresa was in her early 30s when her husband was killed in an automobile accident. In those days, Hispanic widows were supposed to be very modest, focus on the church, and do “good works.” But Teresa, being “modern,” thought differently. Suddenly single and still attractive, she was into having fun. The fact that she worked as a secretary in the loans and grants office of a local university also played a role, since she was constantly exposed to the social ferment of those days. She scandalized the family by shooting her mouth off about how maybe the kids were right about all that “free love” stuff. She soon became even more scandalous by blatantly admitting – especially when drunk – that she was an avid practitioner. My mom would have preferred to just toss her out of the house right on her slutty rear end, but hey, we were Chicano and she was part of the family, so we had to put up with her.
Now, these were the days when younger girls were already wearing nothing much but panties under their skirts, while the older generation still wore nylon stockings, garter belts or girdles, and basically, as lhansen and his friends pointed out, sometimes had a difficult time of it when trying to get all those clasps undone while at the same time dancing up and down on one leg with desperation.
Teresa may have had a modern mind, but at 37 or 38 she still wore very traditional “foundation garments,” which must have truly blown the minds of those with whom she practiced all that “free love.” On two occasions, when we had parties at the house and the gals were in the back room adjusting their hair or their girdles, I really did hear a thoroughly inebriated Aunt Teresa proclaim, “Damn, I just peed in my pants.” I do remember other women, especially my mother, saying, "Oh, you didn't!" or "You shouldn't say such things, that's disgusting!" But we all knew that she really meant it.
On one especially memorable occasion, she had arrived with a new guy, her date of the evening, and soon had consumed enough cocktails to be standing at the bathroom door, wiggling back and forth in the well-known desperation dance.
But then she gave up waiting, went back to her date, and got another drink.
At that point the bathroom door opened, the occupant emerged, and Teresa’s date said, “You can go in now.”
And I know I heard this correctly, but believe it or not, she sort of leaned against her date and said in a quiet voice, “I think it’s a little too late now.”
So that is my story for lhansen and his friends.
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