Father Just Doesn't Get It
by Barbara Lynn Terry

"You look like a damned sissy with that hair. When are you going to get it cut?"

"Daddy, you have been yelling at me for two years to get my hair cut. There are a lot of boys that have long hair now. Long hair isn't just for girls anymore. Besides, I keep it clean and groomed. So, may I ask just what it is that really bothers you about long hair on a boy?"

"Because it isn't natural for a boy to have long hair. In my day, if a boy had long hair he would have been forced to get it cut. Another thing too. Boys don't call their fathers daddy. Only girls do that. Are you getting your hair cut, or not?"

"Not. Daddy, first of all, I am not you and I can't live your life. Second, I am an individual, and I have a right to have long hair as long as it is clean and groomed. Short hair looks good on you, daddy, but for me, it's the style worn by all of the boys practically. There are a few who are forced to get their hair cut, but if you force me, I will leave this house and never come back."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, I mean that. Third, this isn't your day, it is mine and my generation's day. You need to realize that. Just because you went in the service, doesn't mean I have to. I can get a 4-F classification for just being a conscientious objector."

"A what! You wouldn't dare!"

"Why because you're so gung-ho about guys being tough and swearing, spitting, farting, fighting, drinking, and running around on their wives, fiancées, and girlfriends? Is that your idea of what a man is? Well if it is, just remember that there are a lot of guys in jail because they do most if not all those things. Daddy, I am only fourteen and I know more about being social than you do. All you do is go to work, come home, read your paper, eat dinner, and lock yourself in your den. You aren't a father, you're just a boarder that lives here. Mom and I have talked a lot about your attitude towards me, and she even said that I have a right to have long hair."

"How dare you talk to me like this. I'm your father, and quit calling me daddy."

"You started this conversation. All I am telling you is that you need to chill a bit. As far as calling you daddy, what is so wrong with that? Tell me something daddy, why are you such an insufferable boor?"

"Insufferable what? Where did you hear that from?"

"I've heard mother say that to you dozens of times. But she is right because that is exactly what you are. This is not a jail, and you are not the warden. But I have a question for you. Would you rather I have the long hair as a boy, or as a girl? It is up to you, and I will honor what you say."

"You wouldn't dress like a girl. Would you?"

"Yes daddy, I would. If it is your opinion that only girls have long hair, and I am keeping my long hair, then I will be your daughter. I will only defy you in getting my hair cut. Other than that, daddy, tell me how you want me to live."

"Well, I just thought that maybe by calling you a sissy, you would jump at getting it cut. But you do look like a sissy though."

"Alright daddy, you have said it in so many words. Mom should be home shortly and I will talk to her about what we talked about, and see what she thinks. So, please make up my mind, and tell me who you want me to be; your son, or your daughter."

"Get out of here! I don't even want to look at you with that long hair."

"Okie dokie, daddy," I said smiling to myself as I walked to the kitchen to wait for mom to get home. Mom was young looking for thirty four, in fact, she looked like she was actually sixteen. Her hair was always styled the way girls my age had it styled.

About ten minutes later she came in through the kitchen door. She saw me sitting there and asked if anything was wrong.

"Mom, daddy and I had a really argumentative talk while you were gone. He keeps calling me a sissy because of my long hair. So I gave him an ultimatum. I told him that I would only defy him because I am not getting my hair cut. So I said that he had a choice. He could either have me as his son, or his daughter. I told him I will honor what he said. The last thing he said to me, before I came in here was that I looked like a sissy.

"Mom, would it be alright if we showed daddy, how beautiful of a girl I can really be?"

"Like what, dress you up, with a little makeup?"

"Yes. Just so he can make the choice. I either live in skirts and dresses, or he gets off of my back and I live as his son. But he is the one who keeps calling me that nasty name. I keep my hair clean and groomed, and most boys today have long hair. But I need to do this, so he can see the difference, and also he said that only girls call their fathers daddy. So can we get me dressed like a girl, and let him choose how he wants me?"

"Well, you know I have often wondered what it would be like to set your hair. If it were up to me, you would have been in skirts a long time ago. But yes, sweetie, we can dress you up and let your father choose who he wants, a son or a daughter."

We went up the kitchen stairs to my room. She said she would be gone just a few minutes, then she would be back. I sat on my bed, and waited. She came back with an armload of clothes. She told me to go my bathroom and take a good shower, and handed me a pink Schick Quatro For Women. This razor had four blades, and she told to just glide is across my legs, and I was to also shave my underarms. She said not to use a whole lot of gel because it lathers up. So I started my journey into girlhood, by shaving my legs, and my underarms. At five foot, one inch, I was shorter than most boys my age, so daddy is going to get his wish. After washing and rinsing, and washing my hair twice and conditioning it twice, I wrapped the towel around me like I had seen women do on tv, then took another towel and wrapped it around my head turban style.

The first piece of clothing mom wanted me to get used to, was the bra. She showed me how to place my fingers so that all I had to do was slide the hooks in to the eyelets. After a few times, I finally got the hang of it. Next came a pair of pink nylon, lace panties. Then she handed me a half slip, and I stepped into that. Then she said to sit on the bed, and put my stockings on. She showed me how to roll them down to the toe. Then she said to curve my toes, and slide the stocking over my foot. Instead of getting up, I stretched my leg outward and just slid the stocking up my leg. I had seen this on tv too. I told mom about that.

She had me just sit there, and she started to tweeze my eyebrows. When that was done, she started putting light brown eyeshadow on my upper lids, then she told me to get in to my dress.

"My dress, mother?"

"Yes, dear, I'm givng you this dress to keep, as well as the underthings you have on. Now get in to your dress, dear, and I will put a little mascara on those lashes. You have very beautiful lashes you know. Any girl would love to have them."

When she was done, she handed me a nice pair of black slingbacks with a two inch heel. When the shoes were on, she had me stand up, and I almost lost my balance.

"Honey, look at yourself in the mirror."

I smiled as I saw a young girl in a powder blue dress, nice long hair, and a pair of sexy black slingbacks, looking back at me. I turned this way and that to see myself from all angles.

"Mom, I think we're ready to go and give daddy the shock of his life."

We went back down the kitchen stairs, and we were just sitting in the kitchen, talking, when daddy came in to get another beer. He must have seen me, because he looked right at us. After he went back in the living room, we got up and went by him. I stood in front of him, with my hands folded behind me.

"Ehem." He looked up from his paper, and went right back to reading it.

"Ehem."

"Yes, young lady. Nora, who is this child?" He didn't even recognize me, which shows how many times he actaully looked at me.

"Her name is Joanne, and she is your daughter."

"I don't have a daughter, just a son. This is Jimmy?"

"No Steve, this is Joanne, and she is your daughter. This is what she looks like. Now you have a choice, do you want your son, or do want this charming girl for your daughter?"

"What do you think I should do, Nora?"

"Oh no you don't, mister. You started this by calling your son a sissy. Does this look anything like a sissy to you, Steve?"

"Well, I must admit that she does look very pretty. But, is this what you both want?"

"Daddy, this decision is totally up to you. You have called me a sissy for the last time. Do you want me like this, as your daughter, or do you want me as Jimmy, your son? Mom has already told me what she thinks."

"Are you getting your hair cut, if I want Jimmy instead of what's-her-name?"

"Joanne," mom and I said in unison.

"No daddy, we already talked about that."

"Then you stay as Jo whatever."

"Joanne," mom and I said it again.

"That's all I needed to hear, dear. You now have a very beautiful daughter, and I will lay down the ground rules for her. Come Joanne, let's leave your father to his paper."
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This story was meant to be a short-short story of a father getting poetic justice. There is nothing more I can write here after this ending, or it will spoil the premise of the whole story. Thank you for reading. Barbara.