I shook my head and once I’d emptied my mouth, said “No, never.” She said that she’d figured a ‘guy like me’ would wear make-up and somewhat defensively I retorted “I’m not a tranny.”
“Oh I know that… what is it they call it?” she mused, “Petticoated?” I heard a few sniggers come from elsewhere in the lunch room and hung my head, which I guess could be interpreted as a single nod. “Thought so.” she said, before closing the lid of her lunch box and vacating her chair.
As she left, Rick my line manager entered and asked me if I’d finished that spread sheet yet. “Er.. no.” I replied. There’s about four thousand bits of data to copy and paste, so how I’m expected to do it all in one morning I’ve no idea!
“Well chop chop.” he said, prompting me to cut my lunch break short and go back to work.
It took me until Wednesday afternoon to finish the spread sheet. I don’t think they were impressed. I felt a bit miserable when I returned to Aunt Katinka’s that evening. I had a bit of a moan as we sat in the lounge watching the early evening news. She seemed to brush aside my whining and replied with a comment about my ankles and how ‘elegant’ they look. I said I’d prefer it if I could wear proper socks instead of knee highs as my shoes feel like they’re hanging off my feet. “Maybe you need new shoes rather than new socks.” she suggested.
“I don’t think I can afford ‘new’ anything until I get paid.” I replied.
Aunt Katinka informed me that quality footwear is quite affordable at Asda or Morrisons, but I said that I was reluctant to spend any more than I need to throughout the next two and a half weeks. “I suppose you have spent quite a lot.” she smiled. “How’s about I treat you?” she suggested. I politely declined but Aunt Katinka insisted, and backed up by the excuse that she needed to go to Asda anyway, we set off.
It could have been worse I guess. The shoes she bought me weren’t like girlie shoes I used to have to wear, but a more androgynous Loafer style with a pair of leather tassels on each one, and they did come from the men’s department so I couldn’t really complain. The slip-on style does leave a lot of my stocking clad instep on display though, but they do fit like a glove… or more accurately, like a shoe! “Oh look!” Aunt Katinka said, “These bags are half price if you spend £30 or more.”
“I don’t really want a hand bag auntie.” I said as she drew my attention to the offer. “They all think I’m a tranny as it is.” I added.
“Who’s ‘they’.” she asked.
“The people at work.”
“Well just tell them you’re not.” she advised as she picked up one of the handbags on display. “Why you carry that big rucksack with nothing but your keys and phone in it I’ve no idea.” she said as she unfastened the various pockets.
“I have my lunch too.” I pointed out as she unzipped the main compartment.
“There’s plenty of room for your lunch.” she said. “And it’s only £15 with the offer.”
“Fifteen pounds is a lot of money for something I don’t need.” I said. My aunt reminded me that it was her treat and promptly bought me the shoes and a handbag. Thankfully she didn’t buy me one of the really girlie ones. Instead she/we chose one in a tanned leatherette with handles and an optional shoulder strap. It wasn’t that bad I suppose, but there’s no way it’d me mistaken for a ‘man’ bag.
When we arrived home, Aunt Katinka had me wear my new shoes for a bit and repeatedly told me how much nicer they look than ‘those clumpy things’. She also organised my handbag. My phone could go in one pocket, my keys in another. She put a small umbrella in the main compartment and told me that there’s still room for my sandwich and a drink. “There’s room for a spare pack of tights too.” she added.
“I don’t wear tights.” I said.
“Well you know what I mean… knee highs.” she said. “The pack’s about the same size and come winter you’ll probably be better off with tights on anyway.”
“Come winter I hope I’m living on my own and not having to wear what my aunt thinks I should wear.” I thought. “Yeah I ‘spose.” I said.