A Conversation with Mother - Secret Girl

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A Conversation with Mother - Secret Girl

I heard the front door close. The noise of my brothers laughing and bouncing the football carried through my bedroom window. I heard my father say.

“Be careful of the road.”

As they made their way to the park to kick the ball about.

I had told them I just want to play in my bedroom.

“Ok, suit yourself.”

Was the reply. I went to the cupboard to look for my battery operated record player when my mother called.

“Simon, can you come downstairs please.”

I knew I was in trouble, because of what happened earlier.

I had gone into my parent’s bedroom and opened the top draw of my mother’s chest of drawers. Inside were lots of pairs of my mum’s knickers. I had run my hands up and down the frilly underwear. I pulled out a pair of blue knickers with stiff short lace on the legs. The lace tickled my hands. I wanted to put them on.

I had stripped off my pants, and stepped into the knickers. I pulled them all the way up and felt the nylon and lace tickle as they moved up my legs. They fell down straight away. I was a six year old boy, there was no way they would stay up. I held them in both hands and pulled them up. In the mirror I saw myself a six year old boy in women’s knickers. Did this mean I was a girl now?

My father burst into the room.

“What the bloody hell do think you’re doing. Take those off, Don’t dare ever do that again.”

My heart felt like it was going to burst. I had never seen him so angry. He had smacked me before, but his voice scared me. I must have done something very bad. I dressed and he shoved me out the door. Would he tell my brothers? Would he hit me.

I ran to my bedroom and curled upon the bed.

Later I had eaten my lunch with the family and there was no mention of what I had done. Now my mum wanted me to come downstairs. I stood in front of her and she asked the question I dreaded.

“Why did you wear my knickers?”

My tears fell.

“I’m sorry mum, I didn’t mean to I..”

“It’s ok , I just wanted to know why.”

I want to be a girl mum. Why do you make me be a boy?”

She looked at me, with a startled expression.

“We don’t make you be a boy, you are a boy darling.”

“Why can’t I just dress as a girl? I’ll be a girl then.”

“Why do you want to be a girl?”

I don’t like playing war and fighting. I want to play hopscotch with the girls, but they won’t let me, they won’t play with me because I’m a boy.”

“Do you just want to play with the girls then?”

I want to be a girl mum. I want people to see my pretty clothes and to tell me how pretty I am. If you buy me a dress then I will be a girl, please mum, please.”

She hugged me tight and whispered into my ear.

“It’s not that easy Simon. Girl and boys are different. Down there.”

“Down where mum?”

“You have your little willy in your pants. Ladies and girls just have a hole.”

This was a revelation. I thought that some people wore nice clothes and had long hair and were girls. I thought that if I could wear a dress, I could be a girl.”

My lips quivered, and the tears began again.

“Can you cut it off for me and make me a girl mum?”

“Oh my poor baby, do you want to be a girl, that badly?”

“Yes mum, I hate being a boy, make me a girl mum, please.”

She stroked my hair as she hugged me. She whispered in my ear.

“I will buy you a dress and other girls’ things. You must never tell anyone. I mean anyone. Not your brothers, dad, nan, granddad or your friends. If you do, it will stop. You can be my secret daughter. Every month I will keep you off school for a day and you can stay home with me and be a girl. You can’t go out and play, but I will teach you girl things and play girls games with you. Would you like that?”

“Yes please mum. Thank you, thank you.”

I hugged and kissed her. I was going to be a girl, a secret girl.

“I think my secret girl is going to be called Debbie, do you like that?”

My smile lit up the room.

*************************************************************************************************************************
Well it would have, but in reality, in that unremarkable house in north London in 1969, nothing remarkable happened. I just sat alone in my room and played with my least boyish toys.

The part where I got caught is true, the rest is what I wished would have happened.



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