Dear Hateful School Nurse:
Many, many years ago, when I was but a wee blonde tot with a penchant for the Dukes of Hazzard and a mad, crazy love of macaroni and cheese, I suffered an embarrassment on the playground that required a visit to your office.
It began on the swings. Once again, I prepared to amaze the crowd of third graders with my afternoon performance of leaping from the swing at it’s apex, but this time, instead of landing to cheers of applause, I was met with jeering laughter.
It seems my explosive landing had created a split in my pants, thereby affording the crowd ample view of my flowery underpants. Oh, the ridicule! Quickly, I ran inside to tell teacher, who, barely disguising her laughter, sent me directly to you, school nurse.
When I showed you the gaping hole in my pants, fat tears spurting from my eyes, you stood staring without expression. “Please, please, call my mom, I want to go home and change!”
Instead you sized me up, pulled some pants from a box in your office and told me to put them on.
I’m not sure what was more embarrassing that day, having everyone see my flowery underwear, or, having them see me in those pants you made me wear…the bright, plaid, bell bottom pants that were two sizes two big and smelled like pee.
I hate you school nurse.