Ashley’s Diary — Sunday, March 22, 2009 (archives)

Hi, my name is Ashley (my friends call me Ash), and I’m in my junior year of high school, although they don’t call it that here.  I was born in Morristown, New Jersey, in the United States, and my dad decided to pick up and move to a new country where everyone talks funny, and I’m having trouble fitting in.

I knew I was in for an odd experience when our homeroom health teacher started talking to us about, well, I don’t quite know how to phrase it — just weird things.  He just said these things out of the blue, without any warning.  I didn’t know what to make of it at first.  I figured maybe I misunderstood him ’cause of his crazy accent.  But then I talked to some of the other girls in my class, and they think he’s a bit off, too.  For example, on the first or second day of class, he said, “no one wants to see your pubic hair, girls, so be sure to shave.”  I think he was talking to Alex, who is a really nice girl with natural blond hair who sits near me in class.  I’ve noticed she has a habit of sitting with her legs apart, and so I’ve also noticed that she doesn’t always wear panties, and that’s how I found out her blond hair is natural.

At first, I brushed off the teachers’ odd sayings, but then he would say things like, “wouldn’t it be fun to watch a girl get stripped naked?”  I was shocked that a teacher would say such a thing!  When I got over my shock, though, I did think it would be sorta fun.  Especially if she was really shy and embarrassed.  There’s something about the idea of a girl squirming with discomfort while being forced to reveal everything she has tried so hard to hide.

He didn’t bring up the subject of stripping a girl for several weeks, but then he mentioned it again last week, as if it had been decided we would all get to see such a spectacle.  Did I miss some classes?  I looked around at my classmates.  The girls seemed bored, althought the boys seemed interested in the idea of having a naked girl in the classroom.

“It will be one of you,” he said.  What will be one of us?  I looked around.  The boys were smiling, but the girls didn’t seem overjoyed.  I raised my hand. “Ashley?”

“Which one of us is going to have to strip?” I asked.  Some boys laughed.  I could feel my ears get hot, and wished my hair were longer.

“No, it’s a fair question,” said the teacher.  “I promise you, no one will have to strip if she doesn’t want to.  I have an idea in mind that will give us all just what we want: a willing victim who will strip for us, and a naked girl on the last Friday of every month, starting in April.”

“This has been decided?” Liz asked.  I was relieved I wasn’t the only girl who was a bit apprehenisve about our teacher’s plan to strip one of us naked each month.

The teacher skirted the question.  “I’m sure you will all find my plan quite fair,” he said.  Seeing the very unhappy looks on all the girls’ faces, he promised, “Each of you will be given many chances to opt out, if you’re really dead set against being stripped.”  His beady eyes darted from one girl to the next.  “Trust me,” he said, looking straight at me.  “if you don’t want to be the girl who gets stripped, you won’t get stripped.”  He pounded his desk on the last three words for emphasis.

That was on Friday.  I’ve had all weekend to think about it, and I’m still very confused.  Will one of us really get stripped each month?  How long will the poor girl have to remain naked?  What if I’m the one who gets stripped?

Lots of questions; very few answers.  I wish I knew some of my classmates well enough to talk to them about this.  Is this normal teacher behavior in this country?  Well, that’s about all for today.  Hopefully I’ll have more to say on Monday.

Now, this isn’t part of my diary or anything, but I want to share some pictures of really pretty girls — some of them are my classmates, some are other pretty girls I’ve met, and still others might be me!  I’ll upload one picture each day, and I’ll let you guess which are which!

Here’s the first pretty girl, looking rather pensive.


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