After I had finished helping nanny Mitchel clear away the breakfast things, I was sent to wait in the living room.
This was so that both she and Cousin Karen could finish getting themselves ready for our forthcoming shopping trip.
Her parting words to me as she went off to get ready were along the lines of.
“Do not worry yourself, Patricia. Your transformation into a girl will be beneficial in the end”.
I had to admit to myself the possibility that Nanny Mitchel was right.
In fact, come to think of it, it was very seldom this wise old woman was wrong.
I sat myself on the living room settee, which was my normal seating arrangement, in my mint green dress and pondered to myself.
So far I was getting used to my sissification and in some respects, I was enjoying it.
I had now realized that this may be a turning point in my life as I really did not wish to be a boy.
In less than twenty-four hours everything had changed.
Though I had had all this falsed upon me, the way I was dressing had changed.
So far I had worn a green school gingham dress, all be it a tight-fitting one, followed by a Pink checked housecoat for housework, only to be followed by a pink cotton night dress for bedtime.
Now I not only found myself in a mint green dress with frilly white ruffles, but I was also actually going to be taken shopping wearing this very attire.
After pondering over this for a short while, I started to panic.
Once again thoughts came into my head.
“What if I was spotted?”
“What if I saw someone I knew?”
“If someone made an unkind remark to me, would Nanny Mitchel defend me?”
“What would happen to me at school on Monday if I was seen by the other pupils?”
At school, my life was already a living hell, and I was being bullied on a regular basis for not being manly enough.
Surely if I was seen in the town in a dress, my school life would become much much harsher.
Little did I know at this time that I was going to be taken out of this particular school I was currently attending and I was going to have a home tutor.
However like a lot of things that is another story.
At this moment in time, I was in Panic mode.
A tear started to appear in my eye.
However, I had learned to hold back from full crying.
After all, only girls cried, so I had been told.
And any boy that cried was a big girl’s blouse.
Well, in all honesty, sitting on the settee in my newly made mint green dress, I was not exactly far from being a big girl’s blouse.
I pulled myself together and started to act more stoically.
I then wondered to myself.
Is it actually possible for girls to be stoic?
There were a few girls in my school who fulfilled that criteria.
Come to think of it, some were far more than stoic.
Some of them could really match the boys when it came to strength and fighting ability.
I had, at times been thumped by some of these girls who seemed to hang around in a gang.
Then there was cousin Karen.
Although not physically stoic, her mind certainly was.
She was very determined in getting things to go her own way.
She was also head of her class and captain of her school’s netball team.
Rumour had it that she was about to be made a prefect.
This may have been the reason for her very Domineering attitude.
However, Domineering attitude or not, cousin Karen was certainly nobody’s fool.
Maybe the fact that she had now started to be kinder to me was a good omen and I could possibly learn much from her.
Then of course there was Nanny Mitchel.
Nanny Mitchel was undoubtedly stoic.
She stood no nonsense from anyone at all.
I had seen her take on men much taller than herself and give them what for.
Bearing all this in mind, another thought entered my head.
That was,
“Whoever said females were the weaker sex?”
Whoever did has to be wrong.
Alone in my thoughts, I started to have a lucid daydream.
I dreamt I had been born a girl.
I was viewing myself on the other side of the grass.
I dreamt my life was much easier.
No more fighting.
No more wore games.
No more being made to play football or cricket.
I could cook things, instead of having to do boy things like woodwork.
Make nice pink fairy cakes or cook victoria sponges.
I could do things like flower pressing,
Instead of playing with guns and pretending to kill people.
I could play skipping games.
Hopscotch.
Dolls houses.
There is so so much I could do if only I had been born a girl.
My thought patterns continued on this subject, however, they now took to the direction of all the nice clothing I would wear had I been born the gentler gender.
I thought of all the panties I would wear.
A different clean pair for every day.
All different colors.
Pretty Pinks,
lilac Blues,
light Greens,
bright Reds,
some with frills,
others with just lace.
Some with flowers,
others just plain.
So much better than the ghastly bland colored why fronts I had to wear in my male garb.
Then there would be the skirts.
Some would be formal though still attractive.
Some would be vibrant,
Colorful,
But above all pretty.
There would be delightful tops.
Some would match the skirts and coordinate well.
Others would not match,
However, it would not matter.
I would be happy.
Then of course there would be the dresses.
Like the Mint green one, I was currently wearing.
They also would be of all colors, patterns, and designs.
As with the panties,
Some would have frills,
Others would have lace,
Others would just be plain.
There would be the dainty shoes,
T bar sandals
Mary Janes
Bright coloured Pumps.
Slippers for wearing around the house.
So much better than boring male shoes.
Could I truly become a girl?
Would this sissification work?
Could I be feminized?
Could I truly truly fulfill this role that had been thrust upon me?
I was currently having one of the best daydreams I had ever had.
I so did not want this dream to end.
At last, I was having dreams in glorious color, instead of horrendous nightmares, that always appeared to be dark and foreboding.
However, as they say, all good things come to an end.
As this dream did.
Nanny Mitchel walked into the room and asked.
“Are you ready to go shopping Patricia?”
In a haze from my recent daydream, I replied with some enthusiastic excitement.
“Yes Nanny Mitchel.”
Although it was Saturday, Nanny Mitchel appeared to be in her Sunday best clothing, as was cousin Karen who was waiting in the hall way.
