Hello. My name is Miranda. It was during my second year at university that this incident happened. I hope you find the retelling of it interesting. I am blushing at the recall of the events and hope that by putting them here for everyone to read it will start to free me from my embarrassment.
I was a keen gymnast. Not a very good one, but I belonged to a club as a child and so, when I started at university I decided to join the gymnastics club, partly to keep fit and active but also to make friends.
During my second year our coach, a quite fierce lady called Carole Hathaway, decided that we should enter some competitions, to sharpen us up by giving us something to aim for. I was selected to do the floor exercises; my friends Trish (beam), Monica (asymmetric bars) and Julia (vault) were also selected. We all practised hard, but also had a good laugh.
I overslept on the day of the competition and was woken by Julia knocking frantically on my door. I got up, dressed hurriedly and threw my kit into my bag and dashed out. Miss Hathaway was driving, and I was squeezed in the back with Monica and Julia. I hadn't kept them waiting and we soon arrived at the venue, only a few minutes late.
We were directed to the changing room. To my dismay it was just a room with benches round it and not the changing cubicles I was used to at the university. This was a big thing for me, especially surrounded by other gymnasts, since I was rather self-conscious of my figure. By normal standards my figure is fine, but in the company of other gymnasts I am always one of the plumper and curvier ones. For some time now I have found it quite intimidating to be surrounded by so many stunning figures. Reluctantly I put my bag on the bench with the other girls and began to change.
I took my kit from my bag and saw that I had forgotten to pack my sports bra. Inwardly I groaned; if my ordinary bra didn't show under my leotard I would have to try to wear that. I took off my clothes folding them carefully. I felt that everyone else was staring at me as they sat round the edge of the room, already changed. I struggled into my leotard.
"You can't wear those with that Miranda!" said Monica in a whisper that was just too loud and attracted a few peoples attention.
"What can't I wear?" I mumbled back, conscious of the attention.
"Those knickers. They show!"
I looked down. She was right. I had forgotten how hi-cut the legs were on my competition leotard. Cursing under my breath, I struggled out of the leotard and then, blushing, slipped out of my panties. I wouldn't be the first time I had gone knicker-less under my leotard and no-one will know I told myself. Behind me I was sure I heard giggling as I redressed.
My bra was another no-no. The straps were in just the wrong places and the back just too high. I slipped my arms out of the leotard and reached back to unhook my bra. I was sure several of the girls were staring at my boobs, thinking how disgustingly big they were for me to do gym. I blushed some more and pulled my top back on.
There was nothing to do now but wait as the floor exercises were scheduled last. To be supportive we all made our way to the arena to watch each other.
As we walked through the crowd of spectators and competitors I noticed that I was attracting attention. Men couldn't take their eyes off my bust. As I walked my boobs were jiggling furiously, without the support of my sports bra. I blushed. My bum too was drawing attention from those behind me as the material rode up, exposing my bum cheeks. I was pleased when we reached the seating area and I could hide amongst my friends.
The seating was a system of wooden benches, we had quite a bit of room in our corner and I leant back, relaxing, trying to concentrate on the competition. My team mates did well in their events and we were in with a small chance of finishing in the top three teams.
My event was next. I sat up, or rather I tried to. The back of my leotard was caught on something. I tugged forward. This time I moved by there was a distinct ripping sound.
