I was 12ish with a group of girls from the neighborhood. They said they would all get naked if I managed to get inside his house. I needed that shit in my life. Without hesitation I smashed my elbow on the concrete and rolled over there under the guise of seeking medical attention. The guy let me in, the house was Hoarders level gross. He watched me clean off my elbow and forced me to let him apply a bandage.
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Hidden World Of Girls
Add to Read List. I never did play spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven and skinny dipping was never an option given my intense fear of drowning because of my inept swimming abilities. So with his suggestion I agreed to play a little game of strip truth or dare. The rules of the game were simple. If I declined to answer a question or follow through with a dare I was to remove an article of clothing. His goal was to see me completely naked for the first time. Mine was to catch him in a lie.
Laurel Dalrymple. Laurel Dalrymple, age 13, during that small window between The Mange Incident and The Bowzer Incident when a light bulb really should have gone off. Courtesy of Laurel Dalrymple hide caption. Laurel Dalrymple is a home page editor at NPR. Trust us. In sixth grade, I was spending the night with my friends Michelle and Stephanie. It was well past midnight, and the night turned, as it sometimes did, to "Truth or Dare. Now, this question presents a no-win situation, because anyone knows that to be cool you have to choose "dare. The question, I knew, was likely to be whether I had French-kissed a boy.
She grasps the neck of a Bacardi Limon. She hoists the bottle above the pool's surface, as she wades in the six-feet-deep water, repeatedly pushing her right arm out to stay afloat. Her eyelids flutter — after she guzzles a few shots worth of liquor — and she continues to use her left arm for sustaining the Bacardi in air. Next she leers at Tonya, whom is vastly more coherent and nearly sober after drinking a can of Bud Ice. Tonya drank a shot or two of Raspberry Vodka, as well, which has barely loosened her up. Lauren raises the 70 cl bottle — pressing it to her lips, awkwardly — before draining the last of its contents. She screams "Woo! She whips her hair, flipping it left and right, inelegantly splashing her delicate, bony shoulders.