Decision Time

Sunday morning. I suppose some folks would be getting dressed for church, but that's not what happened in our house. Mom hasn't got much use for religion. When I noticed that people like my buddy Jasper went to church on Sunday and we didn't I asked Mom why. I was pretty young then, so she just said something like she didn't believe in god.

That satisfied me until I was a bit older, but eventually I was curious as to why she wasn't a believer. This was a difficult question to answer, not so much as to theology, but because she didn't want to run down my dad. I had seen him maybe three times since I was old enough to remember; he had written us out of his life. Even so, she was determined not to say bad things about him.

While they were still married they did go to church, but a while after I was born, dad started cheating on her with a woman from the church. He didn't hide it very well, so Mom went and talked to the pastor. To her dismay, the pastor started quoting verses about wives obeying their husbands and being tolerant. Basically, he tried to sweep it under the rug. Mom hasn't been to church since.

That's when I acquired a very personal definition of the word hypocrisy. It also helped me to understand why Mom was able to handle my thinking about being a girl with such grace. She never got infected by fundamentalist BS I had to cope with in later life.

Be that as it may, Sunday morning I woke up, or maybe it would be more accurate that I stopped trying to sleep. I kept waking up and thinking about going shopping for a bra. With my mother.

How weird was that?

After a few weeks wearing Caitlyn's cast-off I knew I liked wearing it, even if it tended to slip up while I slept and it took half my underwear drawer to fill the cups. It would be nice to have one that fit my body.

That wasn't what kept waking me up, though. It was the question Mom asked last night: Do you think you're really a girl or do you just like the clothes?

I had been asking myself the same question, even if not so clearly or directly. I knew that normal boys didn't want to wear bras. I also knew from the Great God Google - no relation to the one from the church we don't go to - told me that there were plenty of men who liked to wear women's clothes. If I decided I wanted to try dressing up in more than a bra I would certainly want to look good.

But did I want to? Part of me said YES! but part of me was just plain scared. I knew that if I could wear Caitlyn's bra I wasn't too big to be convincing. In fact, more than once strangers had thought I was a girl without me doing anything out of the ordinary.

My hair was about shoulder length, not too unusual for the boys in my school. Some guys had brush cuts, some had hair down to their ass - I was in the middle range. My hair is also red, which does make me stand out. I have steadfastly resisted getting hung with the nickname 'Red,' but people still tried. Would that make it more obvious who I was if I was actually trying to look like a girl?

Could I do it? Did I want to try? I was interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door. A fast spurt of guilt as I was still wearing my stuffed bra, but I threw caution to the winds and said "Come in, Mom."

She came in and grinned. "I suppose that answers my question, although Caitlyn looks better with big breasts than you do."

"Yeah."

"Should we try to make you look more like a girl so you won't look out of place in the lingerie section?"

"I guess that makes sense."

"I'm not going to examine that statement too closely. Get dressed - I suppose a pair of jeans wouldn't be out of place on a girl your age, that way we don't have to worry about shaving your legs. You can wear a pair of my socks and one of my old blouses but most of your T-shirts wouldn't help the illusion one bit."

"Right."

"I'll see what I can come up with. Then we can play with your hair and nails. No makeup, though. Believe me, you'll appreciate that before the day is through."

"Nails?"

"We'll paint our nails with matching color. Not something every boy would do, eh?"

"Not anyone I know."

"Maybe you need a wider circle of friends," she said, but she left before I could answer.

So I washed my face, got dressed, combed my hair and then Mom was back. She had a soft, dark gray sweater that would fit me pretty loosely. I put it on and she started brushing my hair. She finally settled for pigtails, a style no boy would wear. Then she started on my eyebrows.

"Ouch! Why did you do that?"

"I need to clean up your eyebrows. Just a few stray hairs over your nose. Nobody would notice them on a boy, but on a girl - people will whip out their magnifying glass and count them."

"That's weird."

"Fashion is weird. Hold still."

The nails were more than I bargained for. I do keep my nails trimmed, but apparently what is OK for a boy just won't do for a girl. She started filing and squishing my cuticles, then painted them a pearly pink. It smelled like the chemistry lab in my room before she was done. While my nails dried she painted hers. Finally we were ready, and this is what I looked like. Mom went and took this picture before I was ready, but I have to admit I did look like a girl.

\
Photo credit: pexels-cottonbro-studio-4786124

So, having been properly brushed and painted, we went downstairs. Mom picked up her purse from the table by the door, then handed one to me, too.

"Here - put your wallet and whatever is in your pockets in this purse. That's how girls do it"

"OK."

She started out the door when I asked "Hey! Where did that box come from?"

"Amazon. Says so right on the box."

"Mooooom!"

"It came early this morning while you were lazing in bed."

"So what is it?" I asked.

"A surprise."

"Mooooom!"

"I'll tell you later when the time is right."

And that was all I could get out of her.

I may have looked a lot like a girl, but I didn't feel any different. I know in a lot of the stories I've read the first time a boy goes out the door dressed like a girl he is afraid or upset or freezes up. I just got in the car with Mom and we went on our way. Of course I knew Jasper was at church and wouldn't be able to see me, but that wasn't really on my mind.

As we drove, we dithered about where we should go for breakfast. Or should we call it brunch, since by the time we left it was almost eleven. I wanted bacon, Mom wanted something with veggies. I didn’t want fancy, but it should be someplace better than McDonalds. Actually, we both liked McDonalds breakfasts, but since it was after 10:30 we were too late. We finally settled on the Golden Corral, where I could pig out on bacon and Mom could have a veggie omelet.

Funny thing - it wasn't until I was filling my plate that I noticed I had painted nails and it hit me that people really would think I was a girl. I tried to look around to see if anyone was upset, but everybody was far more interested in the food than in me. All except one guy my own age, and he seemed to be checking me out. Seriously. I know because I've done the same thing with a good-looking girl. Did that mean he thought I was a good-looking girl?

Very strange.

I ignored him and concentrated on breakfast. It was after noon before we were done. How did it get to be that late when I got up early? I know the jokes about women taking too much time to get ready, but really!

We finally got to the mall, which is a story in itself. Mom is not a mall person. To hear her tell it the prices are inflated and most of what they sell was stuff that no sane person would want. If you haven't guessed, Mom isn't into high fashion.

Wait a minute! If we were at the mall to buy me a training bra, did that mean I wasn't sane?

That was a hard one to answer.

We scored a great parking space right next to the doors, always a good omen. Once inside I gawked at all the stores, I didn't get to see places like this too often. Mom consulted the directory and we set off. I was busy gawking when Mom came to a sudden halt. I didn't and bounced right off of her. Embarrassing.

We were in front of Claire's. I suppose I have to explain a bit. Mom is an earring freak. She has like five racks of earrings in her bedroom and she's worn every pair there. What brought her to a state of arrested motion was the earring display at Claire's. This wasn't the first time I had to wait while she examined every darn pair in the place.

But it was the first time her daughter waited for her. I looked at the collection from a new point-of-view. If I could wear a bra, why not earrings?

Because I didn't have pierced ears. Boys don't wear earrings, right?

Only in ancient history. Maybe a quarter of the boys in my school had pierced ears and wore earrings. Just like long hair, things have changed and you can't be so free with the stereotypes. By the time I had worked this out, Mom had maybe five pairs of earrings in her hands.

"Hey Mom, is it OK if I get these?" I asked. There was a pair on the starter rack that had shiny green stones that I really liked.

"You want to get your ears pierced?"

"All the girls are doing it, Mom." I said, trying for wide-eyed innocence. I don't think it worked.

"I suppose you're old enough to decide. You do know it's addictive?"

"One look at your bedroom answers that. Sure."

"Then let's do it, daughter."

So they held a gun to my head and I had pierced ears. They itched, but I was happy.

The next stop was one of those big-name stores that are at the end of the mall. It was easy enough to find the girl's section, after all they have those big signs hanging from the ceiling.

As much as I have always had a fascination with bras, I had never been deep in the lingerie section before. I hadn't even looked too hard because I was always in the store with someone like my Mom and didn't want anyone to know what I was thinking. My poor heart went pitter-patter at the sight of racks of bras hanging right there in the open. This time I was supposed to be there and I was supposed to pick out a bra.

I hadn't a clue. Just how was I supposed to know what to pick. Mom came to my rescue.

"You need a couple of everyday, plain white bras for sure, then I'd pick out one fancy one. You know, colors and lace and such. Don't worry, you can't really make a wrong choice. The best choice for the plain ones is from the boxed bras. You can't go wrong with Playtex for comfort when you're wearing it all day."

So I picked out two boxes that said 34A and put them in the cart. The fancy one was a lot harder. I was glad they were sorted by size, one less thing to have to figure out. I dithered. Some were very pretty but looked awful flimsy. I guess that they were supposed to be the sexy ones, but I was just starting to appreciate sexy in a girl. I figured I ought to find something that wouldn't wear out too fast.

Then I realized I wasn't going to be wearing my bras so much that they would wear out, so I picked one with a bit of lace and a powder blue like the one I got from Caitlyn. Go with what you know, right?

While I was making my selection, Mom was over in the panty aisle and came back with a package of twelve panties in assorted colors.

"Do I really need that many?" I asked.

"Maybe not, but six won't last all vacation so I got the twelve pack. Why don't you find a pair of panties that go with your pretty bra, then you can try them on and be sure they fit properly."

"Try them on?"

"Of course. You don't want to buy something that doesn't fit, they won't let you return it. Some state law or something."

"What the law about a guy in the girl's changing rooms?"

"Guy? What guy? All I see is my daughter."

"Mooooom!"

What else could I do? We walked over to the changing booths and mom opened her purse and handed me a small package.

"We talked about these last night, so I ordered a pair from Amazon. Now I bet you can guess what's in the box. I'm sure you can figure out what to do with them. I won't embarrass you. See if the bras fit; if they do then take the tags off one of them so we can pay and wear it when you come out.

"Just remember you'll have to adjust the straps until it feels comfortable and for heaven's sake don't make the band too tight or you'll regret it. You should be able to get your finger under the bra band without too much trouble."

"Yes, Mom."

"Well, at least you aren't whining 'Mooooom!' at me."

Everything fit. Her mystery package contained a pair of small enhancers that fit nicely into the bra cups. The gave me just a little bit of shape and looked natural when I put the sweater back on.

Nice!

I thought we were done, but Mom had other ideas. I got to pick out a nightgown and a dress. Mom explained that since I didn't really have any hips it would be easier to wear a dress than a skirt. By this time I was really getting into being a daughter and was perfectly happy to buy clothes that were purely girly. I didn't quite have the nerve to wear the dress in public, though.

We wandered around the mall for a while, then decided to see a movie. Afterward we went out for dinner. Other than itchy ears, it was a very nice day. Having Mom treat me like her daughter was a bit strange at first, but it soon became normal.

A funny thing happened on the way home. When I strapped on my seatbelt, the shoulder strap settled right between my brand-new breasts, outlining them very clearly. Sure, they were small, but they looked like real breasts, right there on my body. Looking down, I was able to see the ellipse of my breasts quite clearly. Ellipses on both front and back - what more could a girl want? My first day as a girl was a complete success.