My wardrobe is now home to three dresses and two skirts which hang alongside my school stuff and my ‘normal’ clothes. In my drawers is a number of girlie T shirts and tops, some shorts, a pair of pedal pushers, a pair of jeans, a few pairs of leggings and two more skirts… plus about ten colourful bras. I managed to resist my new items of clothing for as long as possible, which was three whole days. Come weekend, my mother ‘suggested’ I try something new on. I say suggested… when I declined the proposal, she insisted. It could have been worse I guess since my mother didn’t make me wear one of ‘my’ skirts or dresses. Instead she chose a pair of leggings, the pair of shorts and a T shirt… oh, and a colourful training bra of course. My sister grinned, giggled and told me I looked ‘nice’ when she saw me wearing her old clothes. I looked down at myself. The lilac T shirt is adorned with a sparkly butterfly design and embellished with a ruffled hem around the capped sleeves and waist. My shorts are denim with flowers embroidered on the back pockets and my leggings are purple with white polka dots. On my feet is a pair of my own trainers, so I’m not dressed entirely as a girl. “Jane
I was thinking…” Mother said, “…could you lend him a fleecy top?”
“What for?” I asked.
My sister asked the same thing at the same time and Mother said, “Well it might be a bit chilly on the tops.”
If I’d known that Mother was not only planning on making me wear girl’s clothes for the day, but also plans on taking us far a walk in The Peaks, I’d have tried a little harder to avoid dressing as a girl today… but like I say, it could have been worse I guess. Mother drove us up to Dovedale and parked the car in a small town which marks the start and end point of the circular walk she had planned. I swapped my trainers for my walking boots, which made my legs seem thinner than normal. My sister had loaned me an olive green fleece top which although clearly a girl’s top, is far less girlie than the T shirt it covered. But as we climbed the steep slopes up to Thorpe Cloud, I had no option but to remove it and tie it around my waist. The view from the top of this pyramid shaped hill was amazing, and our mother insisted on taking a number of photographs of Jane and I stood on the summit with the view of Dovedale in the background. After we’d had our fill of the panoramic views, we descended it’s northern flank down to the stepping stones and another photo opportunity. This popular tourist spot is quite busy so I donned my top to hide my girlie T shirt, but that didn’t stop one little girl from yelling “Mummy Mummy… that boy’s wearing girl’s clothes.”
Mother wanted another photo on the stepping stones. In fact it seemed everybody wanted a photo on the stepping stones which meant a small queue had formed on either side of them. We stopped and sat for a while on the river bank before following the river downstream and back towards Thorpe. We stopped for a pub lunch and afterwards, Jane and I had a game of pool. It was close but as usual, she won. When we got back to the car, Mother asked me if we’d had a nice afternoon. I had but would have preferred it if she’d let me wear ‘normal’ clothes. I cited the little girl who’s ‘outed’ me at the stepping stones as one embarrassing moment. Mother smiled and told me that her mother thought I was a girl. “No she didn’t.” I claimed.
“She did Mathew.” Jane interjected. “I heard her saying ‘not all girls have long hair’ to her daughter.”
Whether I’d rather be seen as a boy in girl’s clothes or be mistaken for a girl, I really don’t know. When we arrived home I asked Mother if I could change but she felt that there’s no point. Jane challenged me to a game of swingball and since she’d beat me on the pool table, I felt inclined to settle the score. “Do you really hate wearing girl’s clothes?” she asked as we began.
“Yeah.” I replied, before explaining that I’m ‘kind of’ used to it at school but don’t want to have to wear them the rest of the time as well. “At least she didn’t make me wear a dress today.”
“I bet she makes you wear one tomorrow.” Jane replied.
“I hope not.” I moaned. “What makes you say that anyway?”
“Because when we were sorting out my old clothes, she said something about you having a ‘Sunday dress’.. and tomorrow’s Sunday.” Jane replied.
“Oh.” I whined.
“You’ll get used to it.” Jane told me.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I replied.
“They’re only clothes Matthew.” Jane stated. “Nothing to be afraid of.” she shrugged.
“That’s what Mother keeps saying.” I groaned. I held the swing ball high and prepared to serve. “You ready?”
