Today, as I walked on the main street of my town, I saw a young girl leaving a shop. She was just walking to her bicycle, unlocked it and put her bag in the basket mounted on the handlebars. Then she got on her bike and pedaled away, nothing special. She was dressed in a short yellowish skirt with some scottish style print on it, a white blouse, slightly transparent so you could see that she was wearing a black bra underneath it, a short black jacket that was open, some dark pantyhose and shoes with about a two-inch heel in black. Also nothing really special, just normal clothing for a girl of about seventeen, which she appeared to be. It was just a girl, leaving a shop and going back home, as you see them everyday.

But today it struck me with envy, that she, as a girl, could do that dressed that way and still be nothing special. If I would do the same, dressed the same, it would have been different. Even if I would have done it some thirty years ago, when I had the right age for those clothes I could not have done the same thing, because I have always been male. And for unknown reasons today I really wished that I could be that girl, if only for a day. Be dressed like that out in the open and not be looked at as a pervert.

But sadly, being dressed like that is reserved for when I am home, alone, just me and my mirror image admiring each other, for just some short moments until everybody gets back home again...