Mom Forced Me Into Pom-Poms Intro

 ALL STORY LIST | PARTS - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | FINAL CHAPTER

He couldn't believe it was happening for real. 

All along he had thought and hoped that his mother was joking, that it was all a kind of game, a way of helping her relive her glory days, but here he was in his sparkling white coffee shorts, sky blue tee, and white Nikes, in the car getting ready to go to pre-season cheer tryouts.  

Not only was he sitting in the car in a daze, wearing his familiar but crazy outfit, but once again his mom had insisted that he sit in the back. It didn't make sense. He had always sat alongside her in the front ever since he was 10 years old and she had told him he was a big boy now. That was more than a year ago, so why was she making him sit in the back again like some little kid? 

He couldn't figure it out, but his mom had been acting really strange all summer.  He loved his mom. 

She hadn't abandoned him like his dad had, and she was so wonderful and attentive and pretty. All his friends thought she was the prettiest mom of anyone in the whole school. 

After all, she had been head cheerleader in high school and in college and she had won lots of beauty pageants when she was little.  But ever since the school closed for the summer break over a month ago, she had started to act weird. 

Maybe it was cos she was now 40 and she kept mumbling to herself that she was old. 

She didn't even have a birthday party because she didn't want people to know her age or to have to admit it to herself. And that made him feel sad because he wanted his mom to be happy and to smile her lovely big smile.  

And that's the reason he was stuck in the back of the car now dressed like this.  

He remembered the day well, how it all began. 

It was the Monday after school closed for the summer and he had spent the day playing little league football with his friends. He was really good at it, too. 

All his friends thought so, and so did the coach.  He had come home happy and excited and hungry. His mom had prepared some chicken and salad for him, which he ate with a big glass of milk. 

He had hoped for fries but she had told him some days before that fries give you break-outs and she really didn't want him eating fries or other fatty foods anymore. He needed to take care of his skin, she said, because he needed always to look his best. 

He hoped she wasn't being serious because how are you expected to survive if you can't have fries or pizza or burgers or candy, but so far she hadn't relented.  Then, after he had eaten, she called him into the living room where the big TV was. 

He presumed she wanted him to watch some TV with her like they often did, but instead, he saw that spread out on the coffee table were some old photo albums that were stored in the display cabinet in the living room but that he had never seriously looked at before. 

Now the three of them were lying open on the table.  

"Come here, Jess," she said, patting the spot next to her on the couch. "I want to show you something."  

That was something else she had started doing lately - referring to him as Jess, rather than as Jesse, which was his birth name and which she had always called him until recently. 

(He knew the story of how he had got his name; how her best friend in college who had been killed in a skiing accident had been called Jessie, and how she had named him in her memory). 

Jesse was a cool name, he thought, but he didn't like when she called him Jess. It sounded a bit too girly to his ears.  He sat on the couch beside her, nestling as close to her as he could. He admired how she always dressed well, even when she was in the house, and how, even without makeup, she always looked beautiful.  

"I thought it would be fun to look at some old photos of when I was your age, Jess. I don't think I showed them to you before," she said.  And then she began to take him through the albums. 

He saw lots of photographs of when she competed in beauty pageants as a pre-teen and teen and, as they looked at each set of photos, she would tell him about that particular pageant the dress she was wearing, and how well she had done in it. He saw photographs of her Sweet 16 party. 

There must have been twenty photos of her in her stunning red dress, long and full like a prom dress, and her big smile that was wider than the Colorado River.  

And there was one whole album of her as a cheerleader, from when she started out in Middle School right up to her college years. Lots of different uniforms and hairstyles, but always the same big smile and athletic figure and fantastic legs. His mom sure did look beautiful.  

He knew his mom loved cheerleading because she had often mentioned it in the past but, as she told him story after story about her cheer exploits and the competitions her team entered and the competitions they had won, he began to realize just how good she was at it, and how much it meant to her, and he sensed that she really, really missed those days.  

"You know what would be fun?" she said, suddenly, excitedly, as if an idea had just popped into her head. 

"What if I did some of my old cheer routines and you joined in with me. Come on, it will be a laugh."  

Then, she saw the puzzlement and hesitation in his eyes. "No one need ever know about it," she assured him, "and I'll even dig out my old college uniform to wear, too."  

"Gee, I don't know, Mom, " he replied, quietly. "You know I can't do that dance stuff and, I mean, cheerleading is a girl thing." 

 "That's not true," she answered. "Lots of guys cheer; in fact, all the top guys in high school and college cheer."  Jesse shook his head.  

"Maybe, like, in California or places like that, but not here. No guys cheer in my school. 

They'd be history if they did."  His mom looked at him a little more steely-eyed now.  

"Be that as it may," she said, matter of factly. "All I want you to do is indulge me. If you don't like it, we'll stop. I promise."  

He knew he couldn't say no to his mom and that there would be no point in doing so anyway. From past experience, he knew that once she had her mind made up, that was that. No tantrums or tears were going to change it.  

And so that evening she took him through a few basic moves, right there in the living room, dressed as they were. He had to admit, it wasn't so bad. 

He even laughed a few times as he struggled to keep up with his mom, who clearly hadn't lost any of her technique or flexibility after all those years.  And his mom smiled and laughed a lot, too. And that made him happy. 

If doing some stupid cheer stuff with his mom made her smile more, and she had smiled very little since his dad left, well, maybe it was worth doing it after all.    

The next morning he was taken aback to see his mom arrive in the kitchen in her old college uniform just as he finished breakfast. It was already 10.30 and he was planning to go play ball with his friends who would be calling for him any time now. 

 "Right, Jess," she said, ruffling his blond hair as she walked up behind him. 

"You ready for some fun?"  He noticed that her hair was in a high ponytail with a bow that matched her blue and white uniform with its stiff, pleated little skirt and that she somehow seemed younger, bouncier, almost like she was twenty years younger.  

"But, mom, I'm going out. Brian and Brandon will be here any minute. 

We're going to the park. Remember, I told you yesterday."  Her face lost a little of its brightness and immediately he felt bad. He always hated to disappoint her.  

"Well, you're just going to have to tell them that something has come up because I was really looking forward to doing some practice with you this morning. 

Wouldn't you like that too, Jess? Remember the fun we had last night."  And he knew he would have to find some excuse to turn Brian and Brandon away because he wouldn't be playing ball with them this morning.  

Once they had cleaned up after breakfast, and he had dutifully phoned his disappointed friends to tell them he wasn't feeling very well and would have to cancel out on their plans, his mom suggested that they go down to the basement where there was more space. 

"But first you need to wear something more appropriate," she told him.  This was news to him, and suddenly he sensed that things were beginning to get out of hand.  

"Won't my tee and jeans do? I mean, I play ball in these all the time."  

"Don't be silly," she tut-tutted. "Now go upstairs and change like a good boy."  

On his bed, he found a pair of white shorts and a sky blue teeshirt with cap sleeves and a scoop neck. 

He picked up the shirt and examined it. It looked suspiciously girly but he couldn't find any label or marking on it to confirm his suspicions. 

The shorts were different too, unlike any he had worn before. They were really short with v-notch legs and no zipper, and they felt soft to the touch. 

These definitely were girl's shorts. Beside them was a pair of white Nike cheer shoes he had never seen before and white ankle socks with blue trim on top that matched the shirt.  

Has mom gone crazy, he wondered. No way could she expect him to wear any of this stuff. He ran down the stairs to tell her as much.  His mom wasn't impressed when she saw him.  

"Jess, why aren't you dressed?" she demanded. 

"Where are your practice clothes?"  "Come on, Mom," he pleaded. "Those are girl's clothes. I know they are. You can't expect me to wear girl's clothes."  He was on the verge of tears now - of bewilderment, confusion, and shock. 

It was as much as he could do to not let them flow.  But his mother didn't budge, and her increasingly stern, almost steely, expression frightened him.  

"They are proper cheer clothes," she said, icily. 

"You are practicing cheerleading with me, and you will wear the appropriate clothes. Now put them on this instant, if you don't want to find yourself over my knee."  

"Please, Mom," he pleaded one last time, his bottom lip quivering. "Can't I just practice in what I'm wearing?"  

She moved so fast he hadn't time to react. Taking him roughly by the hand, she dragged him like an errant little child out of the basement up the stairs, and into his room. She gave him a loud smack on the backside as she pushed him towards the bed.  

"Strip off and put on your cheer clothes—now, this instant," she shouted, her arms folded tightly across her chest. He hadn't seen her this angry since his dad left, and it scared him. Without any more hesitation, he started to disrobe, as, tapping her foot, she stood there and watched.  

Standing now, in just his briefs, he thought he would cry as his mom picked up the top roughly pulled it over his head, and then ordered him to step into the shorts. 

The shorts did feel soft and they were so high on his legs they barely covered his briefs. He sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled off his socks and replaced them with the little white ones with the blue trim and then laced up his new nikes. They fitted him just perfectly.  

"Now, stand up till I look at you," she commanded.  He stood but hung his head, too embarrassed to look at her. He felt like a dork or a sissy in these stupid clothes.  

"That's much better," he heard her say. "You look like a proper little cheerleader. Now let's have some fun."  

She led him out of his room and down the stairs all the way to the basement. He couldn't help but notice her long legs in her short cheer skirt, how it made them look extra good. 

His mom pressed a button on the old music system that they kept down there and a lively dance beat, a mix of different tunes, began to play. She put him standing beside her in front of the long mirror she had erected by the back wall and instructed him to watch and copy her every move.  Slowly, tentatively, he tried to follow her leg and upper body movements, but it wasn't easy. 

She moved with practiced confidence, even if she hadn't cheered in a very long time. She kept encouraging him, telling him how wonderful he was, praising him whenever he did something right.  

And then she began to chant cheer slogans, ones from long, long ago. And it suddenly seemed to him as if she had been transported back to her glory days when she was cheer captain and she ruled the school and all the boys liked her and the world was her oyster. And he noticed also how big and fixed her smile had become and how brightly her eyes shone so that she looked radiant. 

And as he tried to match her moves, and as the upbeat music filled his senses and raised him up, his clothes didn't feel as strange as before and he even felt a little giddy and began to laugh, and he was happy that his mom was happy.  

After about what seemed like an hour, but was probably only thirty minutes, his mom turned the music off. Straightening up, she smiled at her very flustered and flush-faced son.  

"That's enough for today, Jess. We can practice some more tomorrow."  

Relieved, he bolted upstairs to his room and tore off his cheer clothes, throwing them on the chair by his closet. He couldn't wait to put on his regular jeans and teeshirt and shoes again.    

The next day was the same, and the day after that, and they fell into a routine. 

Jess would put on his cheer clothes first thing in the morning or right after breakfast, and he and his mom, in her old cheer uniform, would have their workout. 

For the first few days they went through the same routine over and over and over again, until, at last, he knew all the moves and all the words. 

Heck, he could do them in his sleep.  His mom was very proud of him and kept telling him how natural he was and what a great cheerleader he would make. 

It both pleased and embarrassed him.  

After that, they moved on to a new, slightly more complicated, routine. Every day his mother wore her old cheer uniform and every day during practice he wore his cheer clothes, except that now he has several sets to choose from. 

His mom had bought him two more pairs of soffee shorts, in brighter pastel colors this time, and several equally bright and equally feminine tops to go with them. 

He wore whatever she laid out without complaint. 

He knew there was no point in complaining. And after a while, he didn't even bother to comment on the clothes or their color. It was just a uniform after all, and it was just a bit of fun between the two of them, and it was just for the summer.