I felt completely out of my comfort zone in the girl’s underwear department, but I wasn’t the only teenage boy in that particular aisle. “Is it big ones like like?” Mum covertly asked. “Or do you prefer little ones?”
“Er…” I’d rooted through Hannah’s undies numerous times and always went for the high waisted ones. I suspected that Mum knew what I’d been borrowing so I figured it was best to not avoid the question. “…like that.” I said, quickly pointing to a white pair with lacy elastic around the low legs and high waist.
Mum removed them and said “They’re like school knickers” before pointing out a pack of the so-called ‘boy’ shorts.
“Er… yeah I guess.” I nervously said. Mum put the big knickers back. “Aren’t you getting those?” I timidly asked.
“I’ll get you a multi-pack rather than just one pair.” she said. “Do you like colours and patterns?”
“Er… I really don’t know.” I replied. “Maybe I should leave this bit up to you?”
“Mum knows best eh?” she smiled.
“So long as she doesn’t buy pink ones.” I glumly replied.
“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of pink.” she said, showing me a pack of black and grey boyshorts with pastel pink and purple trim. I was tempted so I didn’t decline. Mum found a matching pack of vests and I gulped my approval. “We’ll get you some school knickers from Primark.” she said before heading to the counter.
I loitered by the escalator and couldn’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad thing. I’ve often envisaged what it would be like if my secret came out and always imagined being berated, being told to stop and to not even think of wearing girl’s clothes again. I didn’t imagine for one moment that my sister would think it was ‘cool’, that my Dad would say it’s OK or that my mother would bring me shopping. “Do you fancy going somewhere for a coffee?” Mum asked when she rejoined me. We settled in Cafe Nero where Mum ordered a mocca for me and a skinny latte or herself. “So… are you enjoying yourself or do you feel like a fish out of water?” she asked.
“Bit of both I guess.” I replied. “Girls have so much more to choose from.”
“We do.” Mum agreed. “It seems a little unfair really.” she added. I nodded. Then she asked if used my normal razors for shaving my legs and how often I shave them. I was understandably hesitant, but told the truth that sometimes I’ll do them once a week, and sometimes I’ll leave it a couple of months. “Doesn’t anyone notice when you’re doing PE?” she asked. I reminded her that we can wear trackies if we’re not playing football or rugby, so can easily hide them. She asked when I first shaved them.
“As soon as I noticed they were covered in hair.” I replied, adding “A year or two ago.” She asked when I shaved them last. “Er… Christmas Eve.” I confessed.
“I had a feeling you had.” Mum said. “Of course you could have just been having a nice long bath but…”
“I didn’t leave my razor on the side of the bath did I?”
“No.” Mum grinned. “It was a mother’s intuition.” she claimed.
“Ah.” I replied. She asked if I shaved my armpits to and I nodded.
“Do you moisturise afterwards?”
“Er… should I?”
“Your skin would feel much nicer if you do…. smoother too.”
“Oh.” I said. “I just do what I do with my face… lather up, leave it a minute, shave, rinse and wash.”
“It’s not exactly rocket science is it?” my mother replied. She sipped her coffee, I sipped mine. “So…” she said. “…are you going to get them out in the summer?” she asked. “Get some sun on them?”
“Er… I doubt it.” I said. “Unless I take up cycling or something, what reason have I got to justify shaving them?”
“Well… you could just say you prefer it.” Mum suggested. “Or take up cycling.” she added. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“Yeah, maybe.”