The two final outfits were a yellow sun dress which he said made him feel like a daffodil, and a charcoal grey pencil skirt coupled with an ivory blouse with decorative buttons on the front and its actual buttons running up the back. “It’s a bit scary when they fasten at the back.” he said as I buttoned him in to it.
“Why?” I asked.
“I feel like I’m being trapped in it… there’s no way I could undo them myself.”
“I’m sure you’d suss it out.” I said. “Right, let’s have a look at you.” I said. He turned to face me and I looked him up and down. “Can I change your lippy?”
“What’s the point? This is the last outfit.”
I told him that something more red than pink would look nicer. “…and you haven’t worn a red one yet.”
“I wore that dark red one.”
“I know but I’m thinking more pillar box red.” I said, handing him one. “You can put it on top of the pink… it’ll only take a sec.”
He took the lipstick and quickly applied it. “That’s too red.” he said as he looked at his reflection.
“Here… hold this.” I said, handing him a bright red clutch bag.
“Oh I see… matching my make-up to an accessory.”
“You got it.” I grinned. I took several photographs and a couple more for good measure before declaring the task finished and thanking my brother for all his help. Peter kicked off his heels, peeled off my tights and asked me to unbutton his blouse before saying, “Just realised… I’ve nowt to change into.” I unbuttoned enough to enable him to pull it off and suggested he continue in his room. He returned a few minutes later with my skirt, blouse and heels in hand. He’s wearing a pair of pyjama pants with an old baggy T shirt and I suggest he borrows one of my nighties so he can finish the day in style. “Nooo!” he whined. “If I wake up dressed as a girl I might forget I’m supposed to be a boy and…” he paused and glanced at the flat black ballet shoes he’d worn. “…wear those for school.”
I grinned and said “Fair enough.” adding, “Shall we go downstairs for a bit?”
I felt a bit mean because he’s clearly forgotten about his full face of make-up and the diamanté slide in his hair, that is until Mum mentions it. He darts like a bat out of hell to the bathroom, pulling the slide out as he exits. “You’d better go a show him how to remove it properly.” Mum suggested. “And bring your camera down.” she added as I left.
I gave Peter some make-up wipes, some deep-cleansing lotion and some moisturiser to apply before bed. I advised him to deep-cleanse again in the morning and that should get all the pigment out of his pores. “Should?” he asked. “What if it doesn’t all come out?”
“It will.” I assured him, knowing full well that it probably wont. I left him to it and returned downstairs. Mum and I sat together and looked back through the photographs. “I can’t wait to see these full size.” mum said. “Ooh that’s a nice one!” she exclaimed. “Very elegant.”
“That’s what Peter said.” I replied, explaining that he claimed he didn’t like it but admitted that he felt ‘elegant’ in it. “Hard not to in a dress like that.” I added. “Shame I’ve outgrown it.”
“It’s a shame he’s not a girl then he could have it.” Mum replied. “Same goes for a lot of this stuff… you grow out of it, he grows into it, I’d save a fortune on clothes.” she grinned. “Especially school uniforms.” she chuckled as we reached those photographs. “You put him in blue tights.” she noticed.
“Yeah. He wasn’t keen on them.. then again, neither was I.” I said. “He wore grey tights with the knife pleated skirt.” I added as we clicked back.