Over the next couple of months, Peter’s mother buys him a couple more nighties and ‘nice’ pj’s, along with another ‘nice’ duvet cover. His old plain pyjamas are a thing of the past, as are his old duvet covers. He soon gets accustomed to sleeping in pink just as much as he gets used to wearing his Sunday dress. His mother extends his wardrobe with a third satin party dress, this time in peach, along with a yellow gingham prairie style dress and a few more packs of ‘nice’ underpants and vests to wear with them.
One day after school they go to visit his Auntie Jo, Uncle George and cousins Michael and James. Peter is surprised to see that Michael is now wearing a skirt for school, and his aunt is equally surprised that Peter is still wearing pants. Peter’s mother tells Michael that his uniform looks nice, before gushing over James who’s hair is now in ringlets.
It’s such a lovely evening that they decide to go and eat out “There’s a lovely pub by the river.” Aunt Jo suggests before telling her sons to go and put something nice on.
Peter’s mother says “I’d have brought one of yours if I’d known we were eating out.”
“Well he can borrow one of Michael’s, they’ll be about the same size.” Aunt Jo suggests.
Peter tries to get out of it, but soon finds himself climbing the stairs to his cousin’s bedroom to borrow one of his dresses. “Come in.” Michael calls after hearing a knock on his door. Peter pushes the door open to find his cousin sitting at his dressing table tying a ribbon in his hair, wearing only his underwear. Peter apologises and begins to exit. “It’s OK Pete… I am decent.” Michael says as he stands up.
Peter is embarrassed and doesn’t know were to look. Michael is only wearing a short white slip with lace trim and thin white tights. He removes a dress from a hanger. “Do you want to borrow a frock?” he asks as he steps into his dress.
Peter gulps. “Well… I don’t want to but… mum insisted.”
Michael pushes his arms into the sleeves of his dress before opening his wardrobe. “Help yourself.” he says as he reveals a resplendent display.
“Don’t you have any boy’s clothes any more?” Peter asks, realising his wardrobe is end to end skirts, blouses, jumpers and dresses.
“Well…” Michael begins apprehensively as he fiddles behind his back to fasten his zip, “…I suppose technically I’ve got a wardrobe full…. Mum got sick of me dressing like a girl all the time so got rid of all my pants.”
“Don’t they realise that pants should be for us and all this stuff should be for girls?” Peter retorts as he stares into the wardrobe.
“Well it used to be like that… but not any more.” Micheal says, “Can you see anything you like?”
Peter is both overwhelmed and uninspired by the options before him. Michael pulls out a variety of frocks, but Peter can’t make his mind up. With his cousins growing impatience, Peter finally settles on a navy blue frock with pale blue details. Michael pulls open one of his drawers and removes a pair of tights. “Here you go.” he says, passing them to Peter who recoils at the sight of them.
“Can’t I just wear socks?” Peter asked.
“Tights look much better though.” Michael replies, “Plus they’re a bit more grown up than socks.”
A borrowed pair of ballet pumps are on Peter’s feet as he follows his cousin to the kitchen where his mother, Aunt Jo and young cousin James are waiting. James wears a prissy lilac frock and is clearly happy to do so. “Well you two look nice.” Peter’s mother says, glancing from Michael’s brown plaid frock to Peter’s navy blue one. Her eyes drop to Peter’s feet, then to his cousins. Michael wears a pair of black low heeled court shoes with white tights. “Those shoes are nice Michael.” she says, glancing back to her sons shoes and socks. “Don’t you think that dress would look better with tights Peter?”
“I said that but he insisted on socks.” Michael interjected.
After a short discussion, Peter returns to his cousin’s bedroom accompanied by his mother. She opens Michael’s sock drawer and pulls out a pair of tights, before instructing Peter how to put them on. As he does so, his mother glances around her nephews bedroom; from the impressionist print of a ballet dancer in a tutu on the wall to his dressing table bearing perfume, deodorant, moisturiser, headbands, hair clips and several bottles of nail varnish.
A few minutes later, Peter re-enters the kitchen wearing a pair of white tights in place of the socks. His mother follows, saying, “I hope you don’t mind Michael but he’s borrowed one of your headbands too.”
Michael doesn’t immediately reply as Auntie Jo is applying his lip-stick. Once done, Michael hops off the stool and checks his reflection in a small mirror. Peter’s jaw drops a little as he glances from face to face. Both James and Michael are now wearing eye make up and lipstick. Aunt Jo smiles at Peter and asks, “Are you ready?”
Peter looks down at himself and nods shyly. “Come on then.” his aunt says, patting the seat of the stool.
“I thought you meant am I ready to go.” Peter says as he reluctantly sits on the stool. His aunt tells him what to do and where to look as she applies a little eye liner, mascara and eye shadow around his eyes, before putting a pale pink lipstick on his lips.
“Now you’re ready to go.” his aunt smiles.
Peter’s mother notices that one person is missing. “Is George coming?”
“No… he’s been transferred to the cleaning department so he won’t be home ’til late.” Aunt Jo replies.
Peter isn’t happy with the fact that they walk to the restaurant instead of driving, and it seems to take ages. His mother, aunt and cousin James walk ahead. “So when did George get transferred?” Helen asks her sister-in-law.
“A couple of weeks ago.” Jo replies.
“I thought he would have told me.” Helen says. “He is my brother after all.”
“He’s not too happy about it… the company have been restructuring over the last few months and he was given the choice of a redundancy or a transfer.” she explains. “And we can’t really survive on just my wage so he had to take the transfer. It’s less pay, but it’s better than nothing.”
“That’s probably dented his pride a bit… does he work every evening?”
“Morning and evening on a five ’til eight split shift, six days a week.” Jo states.
“I thought we’d have seen him.” Helen says, knowing they arrived no later than three thirty.
“Well… to be honest it has dented his pride. He knew you and Peter were dropping in and decided to leave a bit early.”
“Why on earth would he do that?” Helen asked, feeling more than a little offended that her own brother had actively avoided them.
“He has to wear a uniform and he’s not quite ready for you to see him in it.”
“Oh I see.” she says, realising the obvious.
Her sister-in-law describes the plain ‘domestic’ frock her husband now wears for work, along with the tabard he wears over it. “It’s having to wear tights and heels too that he’s really struggling with.” Jo adds.
“Hmm.” she says trying to visualise her brother. “It must be hard for him… but the world is changing.”
“It is… and for the better.” Jo replies. “Michael wasn’t happy when I took his last pair of trousers… but it’s only fair, if his father has to wear a frock for work then he should wear a skirt for school.”
“Yes… I’m still toying with how to get Peter to wear one. We have a kind of deal where, if more than half the boys in class are wearing skirts then he should too.” Helen explains.
“Just buy him one and be done with it.” Jo suggests. “He’ll spit and shout and curse but… it’s not his decision. It was only a couple of weeks ago I finally put a stop to Michael dressing like a girl.”
“And how’s he getting on?” Helen asks.
“Well… how do you think he’s getting on?” Jo asks.
Helen turns around to check on her son and nephew who walk a few yards behind. “They do look pretty.” she observes.
“Yes… like proper young men.” Jo smiles.
“You’re being quiet Pete.” his cousin Michael says as Peter hasn’t spoken a word since they left the house.
Peter tells him that he feels really weird being dressed ‘like this’ in broad daylight.
“I thought you’d have got used to it since your birthday.” Michael replies, assuming that Peter is now wearing a dress on a daily basis.
“Not outside though.” Peter gulps. “I have to wear a dress every Sunday and I’m not going to leave the house if I can help it.”
“Why not?”
“Der…” Peter retorts, “Because I’m wearing a dress!”
Michael empathises with his cousin and reminisces over his transitional period. “When it was only once in a while I used to hate wearing them, unlike James…” he explains glancing down the lane toward his younger brother; his ringlets and ribbons bouncing as he intermittently skips to keep up with the adults, “But then mum decided I had to wear a skirt or dress all the time.”
“What? Just like that? No Pants!.”
“Well…” Michael continued, “I talked her into letting me wear my school pants, which was a fair deal I guess.”
“So how come you started wearing a school skirt?” Peter asks. “I thought you’d be the last person to give in.”
“Mum just decided a couple of weeks ago.” Michael shrugged. “You know how they are… this idea that wearing pants is all of a sudden dressing like a girl.”
“Tell me about it.” Peter agrees. “Even if mum did buy me a school skirt I’d still wear my pants whether she liked it or not.” he defiantly added.
“That’s what I thought until one day I didn’t have any pants.” Michael replied. “Once I’d got my head around the fact that skirts and dresses are in fact boys clothes, it’s not so bad.” Michael says. “Call me weird but I don’t really miss my pants any more.”
“You’re weird.” Peter teases. “I don’t think I’d ever get used to dressing like this all the time.” he adds, looking down at himself. “…and these tights are itchy.”
“They look nice though.” Michael states. “And they don’t itch if you shave your legs.”
It’s late in the evening when Peter and his mother arrive home. Peter is back in his school pants and his mother says “Well that was nice wasn’t it? I wasn’t expecting to be taken out for a meal.”
Peter confesses that he wasn’t expecting that either. “You know Michael hasn’t got any boy clothes at all now!”
“You mean pants?” his mother replies as her son nods. “They’re hardly ‘boys’ clothes these days.” she reminds him for the umpteen-millionth time, “And you looked lovely in his dress… I might buy you one like that.”
Peter admits that he liked it more than any of his own dresses, but isn’t quite so sure if he’d want one of his own. “I couldn’t believe it when I had to wear make up too!”
“You didn’t waste any time jumping on the stool.” his mother grins. “And you’ve not exactly rushed to wash it off either.”
Peter blushes and gets up to wash it off, but his mother talks him into keeping it on until bedtime.
The following day Peter returns home from school and hooks his bag on the back of a chair, before making himself a drink. As of today, there are now five boys in his class wearing skirts leaving eight, including himself who continue to wear pants. Some of the boys who do wear a skirt are such sissies; with their pig-tails & ribbons and fluffy pink pencil cases. Others clearly wear their skirts under duress and carry a look of shame wherever they go.
Of late, Peter has been getting bullied by some of the girls for not wearing a skirt, which isn’t nice. He’s not the only boy they bully, but since his birthday party and the dress that went with it, he’s been targeted. There’s nothing weirder than being told you’re dressing like a girl by simply wearing pants. “I’ve always worn pants!” he’d retort, “A couple of years ago we never wore skirts or dresses.” he’d claim, just before a knee whacked his groin. It doesn’t happen everyday and sometimes not even every week, but in Peter’s mind, it’s better than wearing a skirt for school. He’s not alone as other boys get the same treatment. The teachers are fully aware but being an all female staff (apart from the cleaners), they simply feel the targeted boys are just making life hard for themselves. He hasn’t told his mum because she’d just use it as an excuse. He’s determined not to give in and end up wearing a stupid skirt everyday for school. Wearing a dress every Sunday is bad enough!
The following Monday, Andrew Carter turns up in a skirt. It looks like he’s been drugged, transformed then hypnotised as he was one of the least likely to comply with modern fashions. The girls gave him a round of applause when he entered the form room that morning. The previous Friday he was a typical scruffy lad with unkempt, uncombed hair, old baseball boots, baggy pants and an oversized jumper, over a badly tied tie and an un ironed and probably unwashed shirt. Today his hair has been washed, untangled, straightened and cut into a short, sharp bob. He wears a fitted blouse with his tie tied short and smart. A fitted jumper leads the eye down to his short pleated skirt, beneath which emerge a pair of slim smooth legs. On his feet is a pair of heeled lace up brogues. He walks confidently, takes his reception gracefully and sit at his desk displaying a confidence hitherto unknown to him. Everything about his appearance is perfect, and he clearly knows it.
Peter’s a liberal. If Andrew Carter, unlikely as it may seem wants to go sissy that’s fine… and at least he does it well. In the eyes of the girls he’s shot from zero to hero with his new look. On the one hand Peter thinks good on him, it’s a huge improvement on the distant, dishevelled demeanour he had last week, but on the other hand… it means there’s now six boys in skirts and seven in pants. Peter ponders the loose ‘deal’ he made with his mother and hopes it’s slipped her mind. For if one more boy gives in, thus tipping the balance, Peter has to wear a skirt too. Hopefully she’s forgotten all about it. He hopes. Hopefully. Hoping.