“Well it’s better to have and not need than to need and not have.” she replied.

Choosing my handbag was easy as there was only one that features the same shade of blue as my dress.

I recalled seeing a similar one in Peter’s bedroom as I tried it on (i.e. slung it over my shoulder and let it hang on my hip).

Choosing something for my hair took a lot longer.

Mum put numerous headbands,

hair bands, hair slides and hair clips on me before settling on a pair of slides with a pale blue satin bow on each.

Mum thanked the assistant for their help, before handing over all our purchases.

“I think John will have the embroidery option too.” she said, before taking me and my dress back to the changing room on the ground floor.

The only good thing that’s happened since I stepped inside this ghastly shop named Angelic Pretty is the fact that my mother let me change back into my own clothes.

I carried the big pink branded bags back to the car and a group of kids yelled

“Hey look he’s been to Angelic Pretty…

woo hoo hooo!”

They laughed and pointed and teased me.

Mum told me to take no notice and told me that they’re just the sort of boys who need to be petticoated.

“I don’t think anyone ‘needs’ it.” I said.

“Especially people like me and Peter who’ve done nothing wrong,” I mumbled as I got in the car.

Mum didn’t reply to my point,

However, she did ask if I was hungry and suggested KFC,

McDonald’s,

a pizza maybe,

“Or fish and chips by the sea?” she suggested.

I was hungry but didn’t really have an appetite.

My tummy is in knots as I try to come to terms with all the things I’ve just been bought,

The thought of actually wearing them on Tuesday is something beyond.

I wonder if Peter’s been to Angelic Pretty and assume that he has.

Probably on numerous occasions,

I think as I recall his rail full of dresses.

I stare out of the window towards the sea and try to think of other things as we take the slow coastal route back to Fareham.

Here, we stop for fish and chips and eat alfresco on a bench overlooking Portsmouth harbor.

“Are you looking forward to Peter’s party on Tuesday?” Mum asked.

“Not really,” I replied.

“Well just remember that it’s not about you,

it’s about Peter…

it’s his birthday so I want you to be nice not whine and moan about having to wear a dress the whole time.” she advised.

“Tuesday will be the first time you’ve had to wear a dress,

but if your behavior and attitude is anything other than positive,

it certainly won’t be the last…

do you understand,” she asked.

I gulped and said I did.

Mum took the big pink carrier bag from me the moment we entered our home.

I wasn’t sure what she’d done with it

I was however relieved to find the dress not hanging in my wardrobe

or the knickers in my underwear drawer.

I didn’t see the clothes again until Tuesday afternoon when I arrived home from school and found the dress hanging from my wardrobe door. Its presence stopped me in my tracks and I did nothing but gorp at it for a moment.

“I’ve run you bath John.” Mum chirped as she appeared behind me.

Just as she’d done on Saturday,

my mother scrubbed me from head to toe with a luffa before letting me sponge myself.

I toweled myself dry,

wrapped it around me, and sauntered slowly to my room.

Not only did the dress hang menacingly from my wardrobe door, but my new underwear lay in wait on my bed with my mother hovering over it.

“Did you talc?” she asked.

“Sorry what?” I muttered, too preoccupied with the lacy undies on my bed to properly listen.

Mum took me back to the bathroom,

took my towel from me, and made me apply a dusting of fragrant talcum powder with a big fluffy ‘puff’, as she called it.

Back in my room, she sat me down and rolled the stockings up my legs.

As they stretched over my legs, their pattern became apparent;

just like the outer layer on my dress, they’re peppered with tiny white bows.

She stands me up and pulls them all the way to the tops of my legs, before asking me to pass her my suspender belt.