Vincent didn’t look too happy about it as he passed Mother rag after rag which she tied in his hair. I sat myself down to watched TV, but couldn’t help but glance at my brother as Mother gradually covered his head with a host of knotted rags. Every now and then he’d go ‘ouch’ and complain that she was tying them too tightly. “No I’m not.” Mother insisted as they were added. “There you are.” she said once she’d finished
I cast him a sympathetic smile as he stood up. His dressing gown fell open revealing a pale pink knee length nightie with a huge photograph of a Barbie doll on it. No wonder he was moaning, I thought. Even a cartoon print of Barbie would look better than an actual photograph. He sat himself on the sofa and began fiddling with the rags.
“Leave them alone Sonia.” Mother told him, “If they come out before morning it won’t work.”
“You’ve got to sleep with those in!” I exclaimed. Vincent frowned and nodded. I suggested that they’d all fall out because…. well I just guessed they would. Mother said that he’ll be wearing a hairnet to stop that from happening. I don’t know what I’d do if I was in Vincent’s predicament. I’m not sure if I’d be able to just grin and bear it like Vincent does. What he puts up with would be torture to me or any other boy for that matter. Maybe he really is a sissy, I thought. Then I remembered how I just swallowed my pride and donned the sailor dress with barely any fuss last weekend… and now I have my own piny too, I can hardly pass judgement on my brother.
When I got up the following morning, Vincent’s hair was indeed far curlier than usual, and therefore far girlier too. To cap it all Mother had tied a broad white ribbon in a big bow on the top of his head. I still had my PJs on but as usual Vincent is already wearing his school uniform: a woollen plaid pinafore dress (nothing like our aprons) with purple, green and blue in the weave, over a white long sleeved blouse and bottle green woolly tights. As usual, his feet are clad in those horrendous Mary Jane shoes with their little clumpy heels that make him just as tall as I am. “Did you manage to sleep with all those rags?” I asked.
Vincent looked up at his new frizzier fringe and nodded. “It wasn’t too bad.” he claimed as he put a breakfast bowl out for me and poured me a glass of orange juice. If I had to get up early and sort out his breakfast I’d be in a grumpier mood than I usually am… but Vincent doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. I guess even when he was a boy (or allowed to dress as one) he was always happy to help. When Mother decided to turn him into a girl and made him help with almost all the household chores I just took him for granted. But now I’m starting to feel guilty that he not only helps to prepare and serve my meals, he clears up after me and does my laundry too. I do help wash the dishes after supper though… so I guess do do my bit… well… more than I used to anyway.
At the weekend, Vincent and Mother returned from their weekly shopping trip and Vincent gleefully showed me what Mother had bought him. “Look Andrew! Mummy bought me some jim-jams!” he exclaimed, holding the polythene wrapped package for me to see. Beneath the clear plastic was a neatly folded pyjama top not too dissimilar from my own. It was white with tiny blue spots, and the only thing that gave it away as a girl’s pyjama set is the frilly trim around the collar. Initially, I wasn’t sure why Vincent was so chuffed with them, but since he’s only been allowed nighties since he became Sonia, even a pair of girl’s pyjamas is something for him to get excited about. “Good for you Soph.” I smiled.
Later as Mother served supper, she placed her hands on my shoulders and said, “You do look nice in your piny.” as she played with the ruffled broderie anglaise trim around the armholes. Although I was becoming accustomed to wearing it, Mother still made me blush when she commented on how it looked. I looked up at her and she ruffled my hair. “Vincent… do you use shampoo when you wash your hair?” she asked, sneering at her hand as if it was contaminated.
“Yeah.” I said.
“Well it doesn’t feel like it.” she said.
