Mother suggested we give ‘Andrea’ a trial run and did my hair and make-up one evening. She did make me look very feminine, but looking feminine isn’t the same as looking female. I quickly realised that there’d be no way I’d fool anyone so I reluctantly agreed to attended the ceremony as Vincent’s petticoated brother.
“Oh do I have to?” I moaned when Mother said we should go shopping to find my outfit. My biggest fear was that someone I know might spot me browsing the skirts & dresses in one of the department stores. “Can’t you just choose something?” I suggested.
“I could…. but we need to make sure it fits you.” Mother replied, “And I’m sure you’d feel more comfortable in something you’ve chosen.” she added. “You know what my taste can be like!”
She had a point. Mother did tend to go for the prissy styles so to avoid me looking like a meringue (or worse), I agreed to accompany her. She took me into Crickley rather than Covenworth, which was a bit of a relief as hardly anyone in Crickley knows who I am. I was a still a bag of nerves as we strolled down the high street, and this wasn’t alleviated as Mother drew my attention to every single female mannequin in every shop window display. She told me which styles she liked and which she felt were inappropriate for the occasion. I asked her if she’d keep her voice down a bit, and Mother apologised. “I’m so used to shopping with Vincent.” was her excuse. We didn’t enter any of the department stores or boutiques as we strolled along the high street, but paused in front of each one whilst Mother asked my opinions and said things like “You’d look nice in that”, “That skirt would suit you” and “Would you prefer a dress?” in a voice still far too loud for comfort. “Ah, here we are.” she said as we came to a lingerie shop… the sort with a variety of hideous control garments on display in the window.
I gulped as we stepped inside. My eyes nervously panned around the interior which was filled with limbless & headless mannequins clad in panties, bras, girdles, suspender belts and corsets. Promotional posters bore images of models wearing similar garments… but something didn’t look quite right as some of the models looked suspiciously boyish, and in one case the model looks positively masculine. Mother approached the counter and I sheepishly followed. She wasted no time informing the owner that I needed measuring for some control briefs and a bra.
I almost swallowed my tongue on hearing this. “I thought wouldn’t be wearing a bra!” I gulped.
“No Andrew, I said you wouldn’t be wearing a proper bra.” Mother retorted. “You’ll be wearing a ‘flat’ bra.” she added.
I lifted my T shirt so my chest measurement could be taken. Then I unfastened my jeans whilst my waist and hip measurements were taken. The owner jotted the sizes on a notepad and asked my mother if I’d be ‘taking a size smaller’. “Of course.” my mother replied. This puzzled me. What’s the point of taking my measurements, only to get what’s essentially the wrong size?
Mother selected a pair of white knickers that she liked the look of. They looked quite similar in style to my old white school knickers with their lace trimmed high waist and low legs, but were somehow much more serious. Mother asked to see a selection of flat bras that would match, and as an array of uncomfortable looking garments was placed on the counter, my eyes began to wonder.
Beyond the till, on the far end of the counter was something that I never knew existed. We’ve all seen adverts for TenaLady absorbent pants on the TV, but I’ve never seen TenaSissy before! A pile of large multi-packs are stacked like bricks and perched on top is a promotional plaque stating Free Rubbers & Over Knickers. The multi-packs themselves bore images of the big absorbent pants and clearly stated in a yellow rectangle is their gender and age range. However the colours and designs were anything but boyish!