The Hazing of Ghiselle

The hazing period had been tough. Physically, but also emotionally. They made her run up and down a hill ten times, with an increasingly heavy backpack. She had been doing dishes for six hours while the ladies were having a party. In the gym, there had been a program of twenty push-ups, fifty sit-ups, and ten bench presses with twenty pounds for four rounds.

Also, she was made to ride a hobby horse in the middle of the room during a tea party. She had stood on a table, presenting herself for two hours, repeating: "My name is Ghiselle, my measures are 34-25-35, My name is Ghiselle..."

The interviews had almost broken her. Sitting blindfolded on a stool, she had to answer a multitude of the most impertinent questions from a panel sitting three meters in front of her. Having to speak about her most intimate sexual fantasy made the blood rush to her cheeks, but when she was forced to talk about the death of her father, it brought tears to her eyes. But she persevered and made it to the final day.

She finally got to wear the uniform on the fifth and final day. Nothing else, though. Just the sweater, the skirt, and the shoes, with a scarf in the sorority colors to top it off. No bra, no panties.

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