Catwalk Confidence by Connie Alexander Copyright  © 2010 Connie Alexander You spend your entire life thinking you’re just like any other boy, when you suddenly find out you aren’t, trying to adjust can be difficult.

Part 5

Journal Entry: February 3^rd

Well, I spent yesterday recuperating from whatever bug I had come down with and trying to avoid phone calls from Sam. This guy is turning into some kind of stalker or something.

Mom and Dad are absolutely clueless and I’d just as soon keep it that way. This whole misunderstanding with Sam is embarrassing enough as it is, without them knowing.

The twins, however, think it’s hilarious. At least they do until I tell them that if they keep it up I am not only going to tell Sam the truth, but tell him that they put me up to it as well. They’re real pleasant to me after that.

Thank god we’re moving from here. It can’t happen too soon for me. This whole misunderstanding is getting way out of hand.

For instance: I went out for a run this afternoon. Nothing special or too strenuous but I ended up at the mall. I decided to go in and get something to drink and was sitting back in the food court when good ol’ “two Bs and a Y” Robbyn suddenly plops down at my table and starts chatting away.

Well Robbyn is nice, and she’s downright gorgeous, but she thinks I’m a girl too. I can’t really blame her after our meeting in the bathroom but geeze this is getting aggravating.

Now according to Robbyn, I really need to drop my whole tomboy look and dress up more. After all, my complexion, skin tone and hair color absolutely scream for a more glamorous look and oh my, with my eye color, the right eye shadow would make them just “pop.”

Oh joy, just what I want, my eyes to pop.

I think the only reason I don’t start throwing up again is because I really hate to and I’d done so much of that so recently. Okay, she’s real nice too and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

As I said, Robbyn is a nice girl–if a bit chatty. Okay, she’s a lot chatty. In fact, I’ve never really been around anyone who could talk as much as she does. I have never seen anyone talk so long without taking one breath–amazing.

I really would like to be able to tell her the truth but don’t see how I can. It would be nice to have a friend to talk to. For some reason, I’m not as shy around her as I am others. Of course, she’s outgoing enough for about twenty people so that may help.

We exchange phone numbers. I probably won’t get the nerve up to call her and I don’t think that she’ll call me. Even if she does, it scares me that this whole “everyone thinks I’m a girl” thing is going to get way out of hand.

I tell Robbyn goodbye and head home.

It’s funny but I am in a much better mood tonight than I have been in quite a while.

End Journal Entry

Journal Entry: February 4^th

I’ve got a couple of things to cover today.

First, we had a little family meeting about our move. When Mom flies out to handle the closing on the house, she’s going to stay to supervise the remodelling that they are going to have done before we all move in.

I ask if I could go with her and after a bit of an argument, they agree! Whee!

In the meantime, we’ll pack up things here and when the time comes, Dad and the twins will drive out just ahead of the movers. The twins are, as they say, “totally stoked” and practically bouncing off the walls.

It’s going to be great to be out in California with just Mom and Ellen. I hope I can get a chance to talk to one of them about what’s happening to me.

Another thing I want to cover is where I currently am with this growth spurt. I guess ‘spurt’ no longer covers it. I’m growing like the proverbial weed.

Mom commented that I am now as tall as she is and that I should probably get a few clothes before we move to tide me over until I stop growing. Most of the stuff that I currently have is getting way too small for me.

One good thing is I am now taller than the twins. Ha ha.

So here are the current stats. I am now 5’7” tall and my hair is real close to being 12”. I’m staggered by how fast I’ve grown. Dad told me that when he was growing up he grew an inch a month for fourteen months. He said that Grammy would buy his pants extra long and hem them. Then she’d let the hem out every month. If I grow fourteen inches then I’m going to end up being six feet tall!

I should get something done with my hair but I’m not sure what. For now I just pull it back into a ponytail. I wish it wasn’t so curly. It isn’t tight curls but it’s more than being wavy and it’s a total pain in the you-know-what sometimes.

Sam called...again. I wonder if I can get a restraining order–probably not. Anyway, he wants to do another movie and in trying to get out of it, I told him that my parents say I’m too young to date. His response was that the twins could come along too. Damn. Well I put him off with the excuse that between just getting over being sick and getting busy with the move that I didn’t have the time right now but that we’d see.

Hopefully I can keep stalling until Mom and I fly out of here. Have I mentioned recently my desire to strangle my brothers?

Oh, I almost forgot. Mom said that I could go to the mall and get some clothes by myself. She also said that she wanted me not to get clothes that were so baggy on me. I needed to make sure that they fit me better but did have some growing room.

I’ll go tomorrow and hopefully find something that will continue to hide my growing breasts and that satisfies Mom’s criteria. Yes, the tits are still growing too. I’m going to try to find out how to measure the damn things properly and I’ll add that to my stats too, maybe. I’m still in denial about all of this.

That’s all for tonight. Later.

End Journal Entry

Part 6

Journal Entry:February 6^th

Yesterday was an interesting and very long day. It started off normally enough but didn’t stay that way. I got up and had breakfast, and then did my schoolwork for the day plus some extra. I then went downstairs and did some gymnastics to warm up before my run. I got back from my run and had lunch and was working on some of my artwork when Mom came out of her office.

Apparently I haven’t been keeping my emotions quite under the control I thought I was. Mom asked if there was anything wrong or if there was anything I wanted to talk to her about. It seems that she and Dad are worried about me.

I know, I know, a perfect set up. Here was Mom giving me the perfect opening to talk with her, and I almost started to when the twins came crashing downstairs for a snack and to have Mom check their schoolwork.

The opportunity was lost and I just told her that everything was fine and I was okay. I’m not sure if she believed me or not.

Anyway, after getting the twins squared away, Mom came back and handed me three-hundred dollars and told me to go on over to the mall and get my shopping done. She said that I had to spend it on clothes and told me again that she would like me not to wear clothes that were so baggy on me.

Mom then told me to give her a call when I was ready and she would come pick me up.

So off I went to the mall. I figured that I could get by with a couple of pairs of jeans and some loose pullover tops. I also needed to get something to run in and that at the same time would hide my growing problems.

I went thru Sears and grabbed a couple of pairs of jeans and some shirts. I was walking down the mall when I came to the Victoria’s Secret store. Pausing, I was looking at all of the different types of bras and wondering what it felt like to wear one. I was also still wondering how you figured out what size you were. I had gone online to get the answer, but the explanation didn’t help too much. Apparently the best way is just to try them on–not real helpful for me.

As I am standing there idly daydreaming, I hear a squeal and suddenly someone is hugging me from behind. With my heart racing and feeling rather embarrassed for having been caught looking in the Victoria’s Secret window, I turn to my ‘attacker’ only to find Robbyn hopping up and down and giving me pecks on my cheeks.

“Alex!” she squeals. “It’s so great to see you here. Getting some shopping done? Me too. I just have to get started on getting the new summer styles before all of the good ones are gone. Are you here with someone or by yourself? My mom is here with me but we’ve split up for now. We’ll meet up later at the food court. So what have you got so far? Here, let me show you this lovely blouse I got. It’s so cute and I think they marked it wrong because it was so cheap. Isn’t it just lovely? Are you going in to get some new lingerie? Gee I wish my mom would let me buy something from here. Can you imagine wearing something like that? I’d feel absolutely wicked but it would be a blast. Let’s go in, at least we can look around.”

Yes, that’s exactly how she talks. Okay, maybe not exactly. I had to put in punctuation as she doesn’t use any. It’s just one long run-on sentence. But she is fun.

Well she drags me into the Victoria’s Secret store to look around and I am astounded at all of the different types of female underwear out there. Guys really only have boxers or briefs. I do get out of there as fast as I can and Robbyn is still chattering away. I can’t help but laugh a bit.

I need to get some new running shoes as mine are both worn out and too small. Robbyn tags along and when she finds out what I’m looking for, she drags me into the Lady Footlocker.

Great, just frigging great–now what am I supposed to do? I’ve already told her that I need shoes and here are shoes–girl shoes, but they are shoes. Figuring that I can just look around then declare that there isn’t anything to my taste, I let her lead me in.

Robbyn starts to grab different styles of shoes while expounding on the merits and faults of each. Now I’m sure they’re fine shoes and all, it’s just that pink or sequins or pink sequins are not my thing. I need running shoes, not fashion statements and definitely not shoes that scream, “girl!”

Well a salesperson comes up and asks if she can help us and before I can say anything, Robbyn tells her that I’m looking for some shoes. She asks my size and I’m stumped. I confess my ignorance and explain it away by saying that my feet have been growing a lot lately. Well the salesperson measures my foot then goes and grabs some styles for me to try.

I spend some time trying on shoes–more to placate Robbyn than really thinking I’d buy a pair, when the salesgirl pulls out a pair of dark blue Nikes. I slip them on and can’t believe how comfortable they are. The color is also good. So I end up getting them.

I go ahead and tell the salesgirl to toss my old shoes and that I’d wear these out. As I’m about to put them on, Robbyn comes back with her arms full of clothes and grabs my arm and starts to pull me towards the dressing room.

Before I even realize where I am, Robbyn has pushed me into one of the changing rooms.

“Now I know you seem to like that whole industrial grunge look and all, but I tell you it’s an absolute sin for someone with your looks to hide behind clothes like that. Now you said you were also getting some new running clothes and I just want you to try these on. I think that they’ll look great on you and the blue in the fabric will really bring out the blue in your eyes. So please, please, please for me will you try this on?”

I’m beginning to panic being in here and then I look in her eyes and she’s so eager and so...well, so perky and upbeat, that I just can’t bring myself to turn her down. I am really caught between a rock and a hard place here. But I finally give in and tell her I will try them on, but no promises on getting them.

Robbyn squeals and hops up and down, clapping her hands. (She seems to do that a lot.)

I take the clothes and go into the dressing room to change. Oh god, I can’t believe that I am going to do this. I pull off my sweatshirt and looking down I realize that the ace bandage would have to go as well. Nervously I unwrap myself and pull on the tank top Robbyn gave me. I then I take off my cargo pants and look at the shorts she gave me.

This is not going to work. The shorts are short in length, low on the hips and tight all over. First of all, my briefs would show thru, and second my itty bitty boy bits would, too. This top is rather snug as well and leaves no doubt that I have boobs. Oh geeze!

Robbyn calls out for me to hurry because she wants to see how it all looks. I take the plunge and whip off my briefs and tuck them into my pants pocket. I then pull on the shorts and boy oh boy are they snug. I reach in and push and tuck and arrange what little evidence of my maleness I have. When I’m done I double, then triple check to make sure that nothing that says, “boy” is visible then take hold of the latch and...freeze.

I can’t undo the latch. I can’t seem to make my hand lift it. I realize that the reason is that I am absolutely terrified. Robbyn calls out again for me to hurry. I really, really try and slowly the latch rises. The latch is up, but there is no way in hell I can open the door.

Just as I think that, the problem is taken out of my hands–quite literally. Robbyn pulls on the door and it flies open and I am standing there with what must be a real stupid look on my face.

Robbyn’s eyes light up when she sees me and she says, “I knew it, I just knew it. You have got to see yourself.”

At that she grabs my arm and pulls me out to face the mirror. The sight that faces me absolutely floors me. Facing me from the mirror is a tall, slender, attractive girl with her mouth hanging open. She’s wearing a very snug light blue tank top with dark blue edging and dark blue shorts (really short shorts) with light blue stripes. I am completely incapable, at this point, of saying anything. That is not the case for Robbyn.

“I knew it, I just knew it. That looks great on you. Wow, you have great legs, however, you really should shave them. Have you thought of getting them waxed? Your figure is great, I just don’t understand why you hide it like you do. Girl, you’re not wearing a bra? Why ever not? You’d really feel better with the support and don’t your nipples get sore? I don’t think I could go without one that’s for sure. But just look at how well this fits you! The colors are great, too. I just knew that they would be. Here, let me undo your hair. Now, just look at that: a perfect outfit to run in. You do need to wear a bra, though. I wish I had your figure. Well, what do you think? I really think you need to get this. Well, don’t you?”

So, I get the outfit. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m going to wear it or anything. I just think I get it because I am so stunned and Robbyn is so eager for me to buy it.

Anyway, I go back into the dressing room and change back into my old clothes. I have to admit that they aren’t as comfortable and don’t really feel ‘right’ for some reason. But I have to hide my body–at least until I can figure out what to do about it.

Robbyn and I leave the store and are just aimlessly walking around when I mention how much I’ve grown over the past year. I use that as my excuse for dressing the way I do. I also tell her that I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy. (Ain’t that the truth?)

We end up at the food court and I tell Robbyn that I need to give my Mom a call so she can come pick me up. At this point, Robbyn’s mom shows up and Robbyn immediately asks her if they can give me a ride home.

Well if that happens, there is a good chance that the truth will come out so I do my best to get out of it–no such luck though. Robbyn’s mom insists on giving me a ride. Robbyn starts to jump up and down clapping her hands. (See, I told you she does this a lot.)

Now it is only about 4:00pm and you can just see a light bulb go off in Robbyn’s head. She turns to her mom and says that since they’ll be giving me a ride home anyway, why don’t I come over for dinner. They can then take me home afterwards.

I’m turning bright red from embarrassment and am trying to tell Robbyn that isn’t necessary. But that’s like trying to hold back the tide. I’m learning that Robbyn is like a force of nature unto herself. Once she gets an idea, there’s no stopping her.

Her mom agrees, but trying to end this before it goes too far, I say that I have to call home to see if it’s okay first. I’m really hoping that Mom will say no. At this, Mrs. Anderson (Robbyn’s mom) whips out her cell phone and hands it to me.

So I call mom and that conversation goes a bit like this:

“Hello, Mom?”

“Hey, kiddo. Are you ready for me to pick you up?”

“Well, you see, I made a new friend and her mom said that they could give me a ride.”

“She? Your new friend is a girl? Yes, I suppose her mother can bring you home.”

“Yeah, it’s a girl, um, well that’s not all. See my friend’s name is, ah um, Robbyn Anderson and her mom is Joan and well, they invited me to dinner as well.”

“I see. Is her mother there?”

(I was dreading this part.)

“Um, yeah, she’s right here.”

“Well, may I speak with her please?”

(Oh god!)

“Um, okay. Mrs. Anderson, my Mom would like to talk with you.”

(Okay, here’s what I heard Mrs. Anderson say. Now what I’m dreading is a reference to a feminine me then having Mom correct her or Mom referring to me as a boy.)

Mrs. Anderson says, “Hello? Mrs. Connors? I’m Joan Anderson.”

“Yes, it seems that our children have the beginning of a friendship building.”

“Yes. Alex is more than welcome: it won’t be an imposition at all.”

(At this point, my Mom is obviously telling Mrs. Anderson a lot. Mrs. Anderson keeps looking over at me and nodding her head and occasionally saying things like, “yes,” or, “oh really,” or, “I quite understand.” Meanwhile, I’m looking around for a rock to hide under.)

“Okay then. I’ll talk to you later, Sharon. Here you go, Alex,” and she hands me back the phone. Sharon? They’re on a firstname basis already? Oh great!

“Um, Mom?”

“Yes, dear, you can have dinner with the Andersons. Robbyn’s mother seems quite nice. You need to be home no later than 9:30 okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay, Mom. Um, thanks.”

“Have fun, dear.”

And that’s how I ended up at Robbyn’s house.

I’ll fill you in on my adventures there and when I got home next time. You absolutely won’t believe everything that happened. But it’s past midnight, and I’m nodding off, so later.

End Journal Entry

Photo Credit: Ray Philson