The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2634 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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“And here we have Trish modelling the latest in gymslip maternity wear,” said Livvie as Trish flounced past us in one of my kilts with a cushion shoved up it and some of my higher stiletto heeled shoes.

Not sure whether to laugh or scream at her outlandish costume and awful makeup as she cavorted across the kitchen, I said nothing but tried to see the funny side, even though they were parodying what Danni and I would be doing in a few hours time.

Next arrived Meems, she had a cushion shoved in the back of her knickers making her bum look huge. “Our next model, is Jemima Bum-ble, with emphasis on the bum. Jemima is reminding us what happens if we spend too much time sitting down.” She had on some of my shorts, which came nearly down to her knees, with one of my tops tucked into the shorts and one of my bras too, unless she’d developed G cups since breakfast. It turned out she had balloons in one of my bras and her makeup was equally garish to Trish’s.

The two of them continued parading in my clothes and shoes, shaking their booties or whatever the term is. Livvie explained as they appeared wearing more of my stuff, that as Danni and I were acting as models for the first time, we could learn from seeing two experienced professionals in action.

Okay, by the end I was laughing at their antics and Simon had tears running down his cheeks he was laughing so much. David was snorting with laughter and the older girls were in fits too. I tried to see it as an expression of dissent but cleverly done so as not to invoke a negative response. It was Livvie’s idea and given they’d only two hours to conceive and produce their protest, it was pretty good. But then Livvie is good at these things and is pretty bright as well, although not as clever academically as Trish, she is much more mature.

I helped sort them out, Julie cleaned up our models’ faces and I repossessed my wardrobe hoping there wasn’t anything too marked with makeup. On the quick glance I had while re-hanging them, most of the clothes seemed okay except for requiring a light pressing before wearing and I did have plenty of other things to wear.

After a delicious lunch in which I tried not to eat too much and make my tummy any bigger—I noticed Danni only picked at her food as well, whereas she normally has an appetite to match her physical prowess—followed by a cuppa, i went off to shower and wash my hair, Julie agreed to tidy it up for me and Phoebe did her sister.

Unbeknownst to me, Simon had managed to acquire several tickets for the fashion show and when he and the others waved us off, we little knew they’d be there to watch us in an hour or so’s time. But that is exactly what happened.

It was stressful enough being seen in my underwear, though I had trimmed my pubes so none of my reddish blond hair should have shown, I’d also checked my underarms and had done my legs as well. In the end, we were too busy to notice much at all. I had to model half a dozen items, which had to be checked first. The woman who was in charge of makeup and so on had me try on different things while she made notes about makeup and hair. She had two helpers but each of us models were allocated a makeup woman and a dresser.

Despite having six outfits, there were only three pairs of shoes one of which were probably equipped with five or more inch heels. Somehow I not only managed to totter about in them but also to dance a bit as I went along the catwalk. I was told to just improvise to the music they played. I asked if they had anything by Beethoven and was asked if that was the dog in the movie? Not knowing the film, I said no, a composer from Germany who died in 1827.

“What? That’s like hundreds of years ago, don’t you know anyone a bit younger?”

“Okay, how about Clannad or Enya?”

“Nah, something with more beat, remember we need you to be moving on the cat walk.”

“Um, what pop stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Like Abba?”

“Yeah, good choice—Dancin’ Queen, Super Trouper—they’ll be fine.”

“Queen?”

“Yeah, they done some good uns.”

“Or the Who, Led Zepp, the Stones.”

“What like Stone Roses?”

“No, Rolling Stones.”

“Oh yeah, Painted Black might be good, you got one outfit in black ’aven’t you?”

“I think so, though I was thinking more in terms of Honky Tonk Women.”

“How does that go?”

Singing has never been my strongpoint so I said Painted Black would do. She called over to some DJ guy to see if we Honky Tonk Women. We did, he played it and she immediately saw its potential. Mind you, I only know half of this because Siân’s dad was into rock and roll and we used to play his records and practice dancing in her lounge—well shaking our bits, in her school uniforms—yeah, sad or what? She reckoned it helped me to move like a girl when I was doing Macbeth, all those years ago. I reckon having a large bum and wider hips than most boys helped me move like a girl, same as it does other girls.

Danni chose contemporary songs by contemporary groups, Arctic Monkeys, Kings of Leon, Snow Patrol but she knew their music, I don’t. I did suggest Come together by the Beatles which was approved. Danni just rolled her eyes. I can’t help it, I prefer classical music or film scores, they just didn’t have any of either, so Superman, Star Wars and a host of others couldn’t be used despite the next day being described as Star Wars Day—May the fourth be with you.

In the end it was quite fun once I got over the shock of seeing Si and Tom with the girls all cheering us on. I strutted my stuff to the Stones and Who, while Simon must have enjoyed my revelries to Dancing Queen, being an Abba nut.

Danni seemed able to throw caution to the wind and despite the heels she had on she whirled and whooped about the place, though I was better at skipping in four inch heels than she was.

The nine of us who did the modelling got a rapturous applause at the end and a bouquet of flowers plus a twenty five pound voucher for the store. The manageress thanked us all individually when presenting the flowers and tokens and although I thought Livvie was more spontaneous and funny, the woman was okay and I was introduced as Mrs Cathy Cameron. I didn’t correct her and she didn’t make the connection—sometimes it’s better let sleeping cats lie—yes cats, if Bramble is anything to go by, when she’s asleep she’s angelic, when she’s awake she’s a monster, rushing round the place, catching birds and small furry things which are often released alive in the house and various other crimes. The dog just barks.