I began rummaging through my underwear drawer, looking for an old one. Peter requested ‘not a lacy one’. “Don’t worry… I’m not gonna let you wear one of my nice ones.” I dryly replied. “Here.” I said, finding a seldom worn sports bra.
“Thanks.” Peter frowned. He took the items to his room and Mum and I just looked at each other for couple of seconds, before bursting into a highly contained snigger.
“I can’t believe he’s actually going to do it.” I grinned. “I was only joking when I asked him.” I claimed.
“So was I.” Mum chuckled. “Maybe he’s just pretending that he doesn’t want to?”
“Or maybe he’s only doing it because I offered to give him a cut of my earnings.”
“Hmm… true.” Mum asked. “How much do you think you’ll get?”
“If everything sells for the one pound starting bid, about a hundred and twenty quid… plus whatever I make from the postage charge… if people start bidding then who knows?” I replied.
“Providing it sells.” Mum stated.
“Well, yeah…. for all I know, no one wants any of this lot.”
“And there is an awful lot of it.” Mum added.
We cast our eyes over the clothes hanging on the rail, the piles and bundles and the orderly selection of shoes. “Do you know what size he is?” I asked.
“Shoe size?” Mum asked. I nodded. “Five or six.” she replied, before asking if I was going to have him model those too.
“The pictures will look better if he’s got shoes on.” I replied.
“Well… I can’t wait to see the photographs.” she smiled before stepping toward the door.
“Aren’t you going to stay and watch?”
“No… I’ll leave you two to it.” she replied before leaving. I fiddled with my camera and made sure the area he’d be standing in was free of clutter, then chose the next combination of jeans and top.
Peter returned a few minutes later. His cheeks looked flushed but it was his chest that drew my gaze. “I’m beginning to wish I’d never agreed to this.” he said, before telling me that Mum’s just been in his room making a big fuss, adjusting the bra straps for him and showing him how to convincingly stuff it with a couple of socks and suggesting he should really wear some make-up too. He sighed. “I told her that my head would be cropped off the pictures but she was like… well if you wore some make-up you wouldn’t need to crop your head off.” he said, mimicking our mother’s voice.
“So… are you or aren’t you?” I asked. “I’d crop your head off either way but…”
“But what?”
“I think Mum’s looking forward to seeing the pictures, and I think they’d be better if you did wear some make-up… just a touch… a bit of lippy and eye-liner.”
“What’s the point if my head’s going to be cropped off?”
“Mum.” I reiterated. “It’ll wash off… no one’ll know.”
Reluctantly, he agreed and I spent ages applying foundation, eye-liner, eye-shadow and mascara, before defining his eyebrows and finally applying some lipstick. “Is that what you call, just a touch?” he dryly asked as he looked at himself.
“Well… yeah.” I replied. I hadn’t gone overboard with the foundation or eye-shadow and I’d given him a natural palette. He said it took ages to apply and didn’t think it’d involve foundation. “Even ‘a touch’ takes time… and foundation is essential.” I replied. “Right… I’m gonna do something with your hair… you won’t like it, but it will wash out.” I said as squeezed a dollop of hair gel onto my hand.
“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.”
