“What are you doing?” he protested as I began to apply it.
“Making it look less boyish.” I said. “You’ve got boobs so we may as well go all the way.”
A load of gel and a couple of sparkly slides go into his hair before I let him see what I’ve done. “You actually quite suit being a girl.” I grinned.
Peter bit his lip and glared at himself. “The only positive thing I can say is it doesn’t look like me.” he grimaced.
“It does… just a prettier version.” I said, before opening my door and yelling “Mu-um! Come and look at this.”
“Oh don’t Emma.” Peter whined.
Within seconds, Mum was in the room, cooing over her feminised son. “I had a feeling you’d look good as a girl.” she said. “I love what you’ve done with his hair.”
“Thanks.” I proudly retorted.
“I’d suggest a bit of lip gloss too, go echo those sparkly hair slides.” Mum said, before saying it’s a pity his ears aren’t pierced.
“It doesn’t really matter Mum… since my head’s going to be cropped off the photos anyway.” Peter claimed as I found some lip gloss.
“I know… I’m just getting a bit carried away.” our mother admitted. “Have you tried any of the shoes yet?”
“No.” Peter frowned. “I’ve been too busy having my hair and make-up done.” he sarcastically stated. “Do I have to wear that?” he asked as I wielded the lip gloss.
“It’ll make you look more like a girl and less like my brother.” I shrugged before applying it.
“Right… where should I stand?” he asked.
“Footwear first.” Mum reminded him.
“OK… but please, no heels.”
Mum and I looked at each other. “He’s got no idea has he.” Mum said.
“Well he is just a boy.” I replied, before informing my brother that heels look great with skinny jeans and promptly picked up a pair of black three-and-a-half inch court shoes. “Try these.”
“Seriously?!” he asked. “I’ll break my ankle in those.”
“No you won’t… you’ll only be standing still.”
Peter sighed and sat and pulled off his socks before squeezing his feet into the stiletto heeled court shoes. “Blimey!” he gasped as he stood. “How uncomfortable are these?”
“You get used to them.” I replied. “Anyway, looks trump comfort when it comes to heels… otherwise we’d wear flats all the time.”
“Fortunately, ‘we’ do.” he smugly retorted.
“Not today you don’t.” I grinned.
Peter groaned. “Right, what do you want me to do?”
“Just stand there.” I said as I turned on my camera. “Oh, and move your socks out of shot.”
Peter tottered into position, carefully crouched and picked up his socks. I chuckled as he stood and tossed them onto my bed. “What?”
“Nothing… you just look…”
“Awkward?”
“A bit.” I replied as I made sure he was in frame. “Right… smile.” I said. Peter frowned and raised an eyebrow at me. I pressed the button. “You can’t just stand there… you’ve got to pose.”
“Pose?” he asked.
“Yeah… stand something like…” I suggested, demonstrating a casual stance. “…as if you’re waiting for a bus or something.” I imagined. Peter put his weight on one leg, twisted his upper body a little and glanced toward the door. I pressed the button then previewed the image.
“What.” he asked as a broad grin swept my face.
“That’s a really good one.” I said, showing him the picture.
He looked, then glared at it. His eyes widened. “That’s freaky.”
“I think it looks great.”
“It does… what’s freaky is that it’s me.” he exclaimed. “…but it doesn’t look like me.” he claimed.
“It does a bit.” I said as he returned the camera to me. I zoomed into his face and smiled at his sassy half smile and glossy lips, before scrolling down the check that it’s sharp enough to use. “Those knickers certainly do their job.” I said on viewing a close-up of his very fitted jeans.
“You’re telling me!” he replied. “I’ve gone numb!”
“Really?”
“Nah.” he confessed. “…but they’d be a lot more comfortable if they had.”