balls out

"Why the fuck can I see your balls, Privates?" The Drill Sergeant's voice thunders across the courtyard. I panic. Was he talking about my balls? I force my head up off the mud in the middle of my flutter-kicks and check to see where the Drill Sergeant is. He's about fifteen feet away. Fifteen enormous steps away. He's standing in front of the fat kid. He's standing in front of the fat kid fifteen enormous steps away but I still panic. Welcome to boot camp.
I never wore boxers under my gym PT shorts again. The embarrassment of being singled out because of your balls showing was enough for me to learn my lesson. With the guidance of our father figure, Drill Sergeant Barbosa, we all bought spandex shorts to wear underneath our gym shorts. This was a good thing. This was a good thing because it made sure our balls would never be seen by another Drill Sergeant again. Our balls learned their lesson.
It's seven years later. Seven long years later and I'm pretty sure I still have the same spandex shorts for my balls. I'm throwing my clothes in my hamper all across the room like a dog digging up a bone and I'm furious. I call myself a fucking idiot. I feel like punching the wall. I must have thrown the spandex shorts out when I moved two months ago. I must have thrown them out because I thought I wouldn't need them again. It's two months later. Only two months later and I need them. I'm such a fucking idiot. So I go to my first MMA lesson with the chance of my balls being seen again. Hopefully my balls don't learn another lesson this time.Hopefully.