"A Fantasy" and all its parts are a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. It is a copyrighted work of Caitlin Rose. It may be archived at any web site that does not charge a fee for access, as long as author credit is given and the work is not abridged or changed.
A Fantasy by: Caitlin Rose
Part 2
"Honorary girl? What’s that?"
"Well we all know you’re really a boy, but you dress just like we do, and you do your hair in such pretty styles, that we want you to be one of us. Welcome to our girl’s club."
I could feel myself getting very excited. If a boy had said, that I looked like a girl, I would probably try to punch him in the jaw. Even when Jen said it, I wanted to clobber her. But these girls weren’t saying it to tease me. They thought I was pretty enough to be a girl, and they wanted me to be their friend. I felt like shouting for joy, crying and hugging each of them, all at the same time.
Outside, the rain had stopped. We spent the rest of the afternoon in the back yard. We played with Betty’s kittens, played catch with a beach ball, and the girls tried to teach me how to jump rope. It was easy to see that I had never done it before. We planned what we would do for the rest of the summer. The girls had so many ideas for great things to do. We planned on afternoons at the movies and days at the beach. Ashley and Caroline wanted to have a sleep-over for the whole club.
We even planned for a bike ride to the Colonial Life Museum, and an "old fashioned" picnic there.
Betty said she could probably get her mother to help us have a "beauty salon afternoon" if we wanted to. The four girls cheered out loud for that idea. I didn’t cheer out loud, but I could feel the excitement inside, as I remembered Mrs. Thomas shampooing and setting my hair. Most of the ideas sounded much better to me than the endless round of baseball, basketball, and manhunt that my male friends used to fill their summer. If I could find time for a few long bike rides and for my airplane models, along with all the "girl" activities, this would be the best school vacation of my life.
At about four o’clock, parents started to arrive to pick up the girls. By 4:30, I was the only one left. I didn’t think about it then, but I think Betty had it planned that way. She told me the party was from 12 to 5, and that’s what I had told Mom.
"Robbie, I hope your not angry with me."
"Why should I be angry?"
"You know, we kind of sprung that ‘honorary girl’ thing on you." "I didn’t know what to say about it at first, but I think we have some great plans for the summer."
"I hope you mean that, because I’m looking forward to going places and doing all those things with you" Betty had a little half smile on her face. She seemed to be blushing. I remembered what Jen had said about Betty having a crush on me. I think I was blushing now, too.
Betty was sitting on the little bench near the daisies. She motioned for me to sit down next to her. I did. We talked for a while and watched her kittens chase each other around the yard. I realized we were holding hands. "Robbie, do you mind if I touch your hair?"
"Only if I can touch yours"
Betty began to gently finger my curls with her free hand. I did the same to her. Her shiny red hair felt smooth and bouncy. I knew my curls were stiff and crisp.
"Robbie, please let your hair grow out this summer. Curls look wonderful on you. Longer curls will look even better."
"Well, the barber who usually cuts my hair is away this summer, and Mom doesn’t trust anyone else, so I guess that settles it" I deliberately left out the part about the salon trim. Besides, I really did have the shortest hair of anyone in "our" new club. Betty and I sat there for a while talking about the summer and what we were planning to do. All the while, we held hands, her left in my right. Now and then she would find a reason to touch me with her free hand. She flicked a bug off my shirt, adjusted one or two of my curls, stuff like that. I guess I spent most of the time just looking at Betty. I don’t know what to call the hairstyle she was wearing, but I thought it was just so pretty. Most of her hair was just brushed back and fell down her back in a mass of loose, shiny curls, but she had two braids that started near her temples. She had worked the stems of some little purple wildflowers into the braids. These braids were brought together at the crown of her head and held close together with a little gold colored barrette. Below the barrette, the hair from the braids was loose and joined the rest of her hair. The braids and flowers along the sides of her head looked like a crown. I heard a car in the driveway. I turned and saw my mom pulling up. She got out of the car.
"Hi kids. Robbie, I’m going inside to talk to Mrs. Thomas for a few minutes. Start getting ready to leave."
"If I know Mother, they will be talking for a while. I’ll help you pack up your bead set."
We went back to the playroom. After the bead set was packed, we just sat on the floor and talked. Suddenly Betty took my hand and stood up, pulling me with her. She wrapped her arms around me in a hug and put her cheek next to mine. I could feel her braid pressed against my curls. Hairdo to hairdo. Why was it so exciting?
"Robbie, you are so different from any other boy I’ve ever met. It’s like you have the best parts of boy, and the best parts of girl, all mixed together." I didn’t say anything.
"Kids, say ‘So long’ I’ve got to get Robbie home for dinner."
Mom was calling from upstairs.
Betty hugged me a little tighter and kissed me, a little peck on the lips.
"Robbie, please come back soon."
I was pretty quiet on the ride home. I guess I had a lot to think about. First, what was I, a boy or a girl? Or was I a boy turning into a girl? Betty was acting like she wanted me to be her boyfriend, but I didn’t know if I wanted a girlfriend. It seemed like Betty wanted me to be her boyfriend, just because I was almost like her girl friends.
"Robbie, who was at the party?"
"Betty, of course, and Caroline, Susan, Sara and Ashley. I didn’t think I could remember all the names."
"I guess it was an all-girl party. Er..I mean except for you. I see you picked some flowers."
"How did you..?"
I realized and reached for the flowers pinned into my hair.
"Oh Robbie, please don’t take them out. They look perfect resting in your curls. I’m sure they don’t bother you, you forgot all about them."
I wore the flowers until bedtime. As I sat at my desk and removed them, I thought about church in the morning. I looked at my head full of curls. I was proud that now, at the end of the day, almost every curl was as perfect as they were this morning. From the stiff feel of the spray, I knew they could go another day and still look fine.
I thought about meeting cousin Jen at church again. I considered just washing out the curls, and combing my hair boy-style in the morning. That would keep Jen quiet. But what if Betty is there? I don’t want her to count me as one of the boys with Howdy Doody hair.
I saw the dryer on my desk, and the rollers and pins where I had left them this morning. I remembered how exciting it was each time to sit under the dryer and feel the rollers getting dry and tight, while imagining myself with more and more elaborate hairdos. I set my alarm for 6:30, so I would have enough time for a complete shampoo and set in the morning. I put on my Slumber Cap, just in case I decided to keep the style I had for another day, got under the covers and fell asleep looking through the Hairdo magazine, looking for a nice style to try in the morning.
I woke up to the sound of the alarm on my clock radio. I had set it to buzz. I sometimes slept right through, if I set it to music. I knew I had been dreaming, but couldn’t remember exactly what I had dreamt. After going to the bathroom, I got out my toothbrush and began to brush. The Slumber Cap was still on my head. Somehow, the sight of it bothered me a little. There was no doubt that I liked how I looked with curled and styled hair. I even enjoyed the setting, drying and spraying. In fact, just thinking about it gave me a special warm and excited feeling. I enjoyed being at the party yesterday. Those girls were fun to be with, more fun than any other friends I had, but did I really want to be one of them? I pulled off the cap and looked at myself in the mirror. The gel curls were still pretty fresh looking, but something inside said "NO." I knew I had to keep my hair neat, and both Mom and Betty wanted to see me in curls, but I just didn’t want to look this much like a girl today. I jumped into the shower and shampooed out all the spray and gel. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my hair today, but one thing was sure. I wasn’t going to wear kiss curls to church today.
By the time I had finished with my shower, I felt more relaxed. I looked at my wet hair in the mirror and thought about it. Maybe I could find a style that was nice looking, but much less girly. I remembered seeing something in the magazine last night. I rushed to find it.
The style was called "Ocean of Waves." The girl in the picture was wearing a bathing suit and standing in water up to her chest. There was a beach and some big rocks in the background. Her dark hair, which seemed to be only a bit longer than mine, was done in waves, not in curls. The text said that this was a "simple, casual ‘do, fine for boating, a cookout, or fun at the beach." The style looked neat and pleasant. On a boy, I thought it would be called "handsome" rather than "pretty."
I decided to try it. The setting diagram showed that it could be done with rollers for big waves, or with something called "wave clips" for smaller waves. I wanted to try the big waves. I got out the some the biggest rollers I had. The magazine said the rollers should be around an inch in diameter. I got the ruler from my model airplane stuff and measured a roller. Sure enough, mine were exactly one inch.
I rolled up my hair. The magazine said to use only a little gel, so that it would be easier to brush the set into loose waves. I tried to follow the instructions, but it was difficult to get my hair to stay on the rollers. My hair barely went around a full turn, and with so little gel, it was hard to keep it on the roller while I got the big bobbi pin on it.
I did manage to get my hair rolled up. I put my blue setting net on and got under the dryer. I checked the time. It was only 7:05
As usual I found the warm air, sweet smell and humming sound to be soothing and exciting at the same time. Did everyone enjoy this as much as I did? My hair had been almost too dry to roll easily before I got the last roller in, so I decided to check after only a half hour. My hair felt dry.
I let it cool for a while, then took out the rollers. The instructions said to loosen the curls carefully and to brush them up, to create height. I worked on it for about 5 minutes, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. It didn’t look anything like the picture. The more I worked at it, the less of a wave my hair had. It almost looked like I hadn’t set it at all. I was getting frustrated. I wanted a nice hairstyle, I just didn’t want curls today. Instead I was getting a kind of haystack. It really bothered me. Heck, it even bothered me that I cared so much. How much should a boy care about his hairdo? I sat there at my desk looking at myself in the mirror. It was already 7:40. I didn’t have time to set my hair again, even if I wanted to wear curls today, and I didn’t want to. This haystack would never do. It wasn’t nearly neat enough for Mom’s well-groomed hair rule.
"Robbie, breakfast in 10 minutes. Remember, get dressed for church." That did it. No more time to think about it. I opened the bottle of Hair Trainer and poured a big gob of it into my hand. I worked it into my hair and used my rat-tail comb to make a careful part. I combed my hair into place, with the standard boy-style wave in front. No doubt about it, add a few freckles and I’d be a living double for Howdy Doody.
"Robbie, we don’t want to be late for church. Breakfast is on the table"
I dressed quickly in tan chinos, brown loafers and a white short sleeve three button shirt. Mom wasn’t pleased when she saw me. She didn’t seem angry, but she sure wasn’t smiling.
"Well your clothes are OK for church in the summer, but just barely. As for your hair, it qualifies as well groomed, but I’m disappointed. I’ve seen you do so much better. Didn’t I hear your hair dryer running this morning?" "Mom, I didn’t want to wear another curly hairdo today. I’m a boy, and today I wanted to look and feel like one. I admit that I like having nice looking hair. I even admit I enjoy doing my hair. It’s just that today I wanted waves, not curls. I couldn’t get the style to work, so I ended up like this. I really don’t want to look like a girl today, I’ve been teased enough by my friends."
"When will you get over this talk about ‘boy this and girl that?’ Your friends? You mean those kids who tease you as often as play with you? Why do you care about them? How about the nice new friends you made yesterday? I’m sure they didn’t tease you about your hairstyle. I spoke to Mrs. Thomas on the phone last night. She told me about the new club you children formed at her house. Betty told her about all the great activities you kids have planned for the summer. Is this how you want to look if you meet any of them this morning?" I thought about Betty. She seemed to like me. A lot. I was sure she wouldn’t like my hair, if she could see it now.
"This isn’t what I wanted, it is just how my hair turned out."
"Did you ever think to ask me for help with it?"
"Guys don’t usually ask their mothers for help combing their hair, once they’re old enough to do it themselves."
"Stop worrying about ‘what guys do.’ You’re my dear child. Let me help you in any way I can"
Mom was standing behind my chair. She put her arms around me and hugged me. Mom sounded like she really meant it.
"I really wish we could do something. I would like waves, but there isn’t time anymore, is there?"
"We may be able to improve the situation a bit. I have something we can try, but we have to get your almost dry first. Do you have setting gel or lotion in it, or just water?"
"I’ve got Hair Trainer in it. I figured, at least I could get it to stay neat."
"Well, we have to get that out of there. My idea won’t work on stiff hair. Take off your shirt, and you can rinse it out right here, in the sink."
I took off my shirt.
"Here wear this. It will keep your slacks dry." Mom handed me a big apron from the closet. It was white and had a lacy band that went around my neck. The front came up to the top of my chest, and the bottom was below my knees. It almost wrapped around me. Mom tied it in the back. I noticed that it was very frilly.
"Do I really need this?"
"I said, it will keep your slacks dry. Come on, we are in a hurry." I quickly rinsed my hair under the tap. Mom was waiting with three towels. She made me use them one after another, to get as much water as possible out of my hair.
"Now come with me"
We went up to my room. My dryer was still on the table. Mom pulled the hose free from the bonnet and turned the dryer on to "very hot." She showed me how to work with the dryer hose in one hand and a brush in the other to get the last of the water out of my hair.
"You keep that up until its fully dry, Just keep brushing from front to back."
Mom left my room. I finished drying my hair. The warm air felt nice and all the brushing was making my scalp tingle. I got my hair very dry. It was really standing up, almost on end when Mom returned. She was carrying a gadget I had never seen before. It had a cord and plug, a black plastic handle, and a chrome colored metal rod about 8 inches long, at one end. It looked almost like a soldering iron, but there was no copper tip.
"Well, it looks like you’re ready for the hot iron" Mom was smiling.
"What are you going to do, brand me like a bull?"
"Not if you sit very still."
Mom unplugged my dryer and plugged in the gadget. She placed it carefully on my desk and began to comb my hair.
"Wow, it must have taken me longer than I thought to find this curling iron. You got your hair very dry. I actually need it to be a tiny bit damp" I could smell something getting warm. I reached over and gingerly touched the chrome barrel of Mom’s gadget.
"Ouch. You weren’t kidding about the hot iron were you?"
"Why would I kid you about that?"
Mom still had that smile in her voice. I didn’t think she was going to hurt me, but still, I was getting very scared. Mom walked away, but was back in a few seconds. She had something in her hands that looked like a bottle with a rubber squeeze bulb attached. I watched in the mirror as she pointed it at my hair and squeezed the bulb a few times. There was a strong sweet smell. "Whew, that perfume is strong. Why are you spraying it on my hair?" "It isn’t perfume, its called cologne. It is weaker than perfume and it doesn’t last that long. It makes your hair damp, but it will dry very fast" Mom sprayed two more blasts at my head, then went back to combing. I watched in the mirror.
"Now for the fun part. Better hold still."
I didn’t know if mom was joking or serious. I saw her pick up the curling iron. I watched in the mirror as she combed up a section of hair and pressed the trigger on the iron. Now I could see that the iron had a jaw that opened, almost like a scissors. Mom caught the hair between the jaw and the barrel. She let the jaw close on my hair.
"Hold very still now"
"Mom I’m afraid, that iron is hot"
"Don’t be such a ‘fraidy cat, some little girls get this done all the time" She rolled the hot iron toward my scalp until I could feel the heat. She didn’t actually touch my head with it.
I was afraid she would burn me by accident. I just sat there looking in the mirror, watching Moms every move, trying to keep perfectly still. The frilly top of the apron was starting to itch against my chest, but I was afraid to move to scratch. The smell of the cologne got very strong as the hot iron dried it out of my hair. What a dangerous way to get waves in your hair!
Mom continued to work on my hair with the hot curling iron. She would separate a section, catch it with the clip on the iron, roll it around the iron, down close to my scalp, and just hold the iron there for a few seconds. Then she would carefully loosen the iron a bit and slide the curl off the end, rather than unwind it.
I was getting very excited as I watched the curls form on my head. I was starting to feel very warm, especially my penis. I could feel it getting stiff against my underwear. Somehow, seeing my hair being done like a little girl might have hers done, and process itself being a bit dangerous and slightly uncomfortable, made it all the more exciting. The light fabric of my chinos was starting to bulge as my penis enlarged. I was afraid Mom would notice see it, and say something. I knew if I tried to cover the bulge, I would only draw attention to it. I could only sit there and hope she wouldn’t look at my lap. "There, we’re finished with the iron."
Mom set the iron on the desk and pulled out the plug. "That thing got a lot hotter than my dryer. I’ll bet these curls will really last."
"Not as long as you might think. A good wet set lasts much longer than this will. You can work with these curls a little bit, but they really aren’t very strong."
I combed through the curls very gingerly. I still wanted a wavy look, but I was afraid of ending up with straight hair again. I stopped combing with my hair still a bit curlier than I would have liked. Mom watched without commenting.
"What do you think, Mom?"
"Not bad, but it would look better if you make the front a bit softer."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you mind if I help?"
"I guess not."
"Here, like this."
Mom gently pulled a few little wisps of hair down onto my forehead. They didn’t look anything like the straight, even bangs I had worn, or like the gel curls. These looked softer, almost like they had just fallen there by themselves. They curled like an open C and all the ends swept toward the right. "Do you like it this way, Robbie?"
I did like the look. It was definitely a hairdo, but it wasn’t nearly as stiff looking as some of the other styles I had tried. "Yes I do like it. Thank you."
I started to get up from my chair.
"Not yet. This ‘do won’t last an hour without spray."
"I thought this was a soft look."
"Suit yourself, but remember my rule. You have to keep your hair well groomed" I sprayed my hair, but kind of lightly. We left for church. We were almost late. We got there and found seats near the back. I could see Jen and Aunt May. They were sitting about 3 rows up from us. I looked around for Betty Thomas, but I didn’t see her at all. As usual, the service seemed to last far longer than the hour and fifteen minutes shown by the clock. Jen caught up to me, right next to our car.
"Oh you sweet little thing! Now you have angel bangs."
I gritted my teeth
"Good morning to you, dear cousin. Your hair looks very nice too." It really did too. Jen’s long, loose, shiny curls bounced with every step she took.
"Don’t mention my hair, sissy. You know how I feel about wearing curls."
"Sorry, I really meant it as a compliment"
I didn’t want to get into a fight with her here, not outside church, with Mom around.
"Ooo the sissy paid me a compliment. You sound more like a girl than I do. Let’s see how you like this."
Jen put her hands on my head and rubbed them around for two or three seconds, trying to mess up my hair as much as possible. She turned and ran back toward her mother.
I didn’t follow. Even if I caught her, we would just end up in a fight, and I knew what the consequences of that could be. I tried to pat my hair back into place. Mom had seen the whole thing.
"She is a troublemaker, I must say. Let me help you." Mom had taken a brush out of her purse and was trying to brush my hair. I could feel the brush getting caught on the on the sprayed waves. Mom had to pull to get it through. It was very embarrassing to have her doing this in public. I just wanted her to stop.
"Mom, can’t we wait till we get home?"
"We aren’t going straight home. I want to stop at the mall. I want you to look nice."
Mom made me stand there while she did her best to fix my hairdo. When I thought she had finished, I started to get into the car. I opened the door and felt the shot of hot air pour out of the car.
"Not yet sweetheart."
She reached into the open passenger door and opened the glove box and fished around.
"Here it is."
She had a small can of hairspray!
"The only way to repair a sprayed hairstyle is with more hairspray. Hold still."
I thought I knew what to expect. I had been using spray for two or three weeks. Wow, the spray shot out of the hot can with much more force than usual. My face was surrounded with the fragrant mist. Mom sprayed, worked on my hair with her fingers, and sprayed again.
"There, that’s about the best I can do.’
We got into the car. As soon as we got rolling, the breeze from the windows made the car much more comfortable.
"Robbie, there’s a mirror on your sun visor, if you want to check your hair."
I pulled the visor down and looked in the mirror. Mom’s "repair" had left my hair curlier than when we had left the house. Instead of soft waves, the top had some definite curls, there were curly wisps on my forehead, and one big wave above my right ear. My hair was stiff. Mom had used a lot of spray. We got to the mall and parked. Mom said she needed some things from the ladies shop, and that I could get an airplane model at the toy store, and we could have pizza for lunch.
We went into the ladies shop first. Mom made me stay close to her while she picked out some stockings and underpants, but she called them "panties." I felt embarrassed when showed me the panties and made me feel how soft the fabric was.
"See, these are not like boys underpants at all. They are much lighter, and softer. I’m sure all of the girls in your club wear things like these, not heavy, rough underpants."
As we walked toward the cashier, we saw a Back-To-School display for girls.
"Ugh, Mom, can’t they leave kids alone for the summer. Who wants to think about school now."
Mom acted like she didn’t even hear me.
"Oh these things are so pretty.’
She took a blue skirt from a hanger and held it up against my waist!
"Mom, no, I won’t..."
One of the store’s clerks came over. She was a bit older than Mom.
"May I help you?"
"I was just admiring this skirt. It is beautifully made."
"Yes, it is. I know how you feel. I wish I could see my children in pretty things, but I have all boys. I don’t think your son would want to wear this."
The clerk looked at me. She smiled, then her expression changed. "Would you enjoy wearing girls clothes? Your hair and face are so pretty for a boy. I can tell that you care a lot about how you look." I tried to melt into the floor.
"Don’t be ashamed."
I was horrified. Talk about embarrassed. This was worse than being mistaken for a girl. At least, if someone thought I was a girl, they might compliment me, and that was that. Now, I was actually being called a sissy, and by an adult.
I guess the clerk saw me turning colors, because she hurried away. Mom had returned the skirt to the rack, and picked out a green dress. It had a big square-cornered white collar, with fancy trim around the edge. I tried to squirm away as Mom held it up to see how it would look on me. Mom held me tightly by the shoulder and spoke just above a whisper. "I know your new club will be having at least one dress-up event this summer. Betty’s mother told me. You don’t want to feel left out, do you?" Mom made me use the dressing room and try on the dress. I had never worn anything like it before. It felt so light and airy. I had no idea that clothing could feel so special. I was getting very excited. My penis was sticking straight out. The dress was loose enough so Mom didn’t see it, but I think she knew how I was feeling.
Mom made me twirl around in front of the 3-sided mirror in the dressing area. The bottom of the dress flew out, away from my body as I turned. When I stopped, the dress kept moving for a second and wrapped around my legs, then fell loose. The feeling was indescribable. It was like I was a character in an ancient story, surrounded by flowing robes. I almost forgot that I was a boy in a dress.
I changed back into my chinos, shirt and loafers. Mom had made me try on the dress barefoot. Mom put the dress over her arm.
"Can we please leave now? I’m getting hungry"
I was actually getting nauseous. The embarrassment, then the excitement, had my stomach in knots. I just wanted out of that store. "Two more items, Robbie. Then lunch."
Mom lead me to another underwear counter, this one was under a sign that said "girls".
She picked out a package that said it contained 3 pairs of girl’s panties. They were folded so that the colors of all three pairs showed through the plastic. There was a pair of pink, one yellow and one light green. Mom also picked out a girl’s slip.
"I’m not sure you need one with this dress, but it can’t hurt." I stayed about 10 steps from Mom as she checked all the stuff out at the cashier. It was bad enough that the clerk knew that Mom was buying girls clothes for me. Maybe if I stayed back a bit, the cashier would think she was buying this stuff for my sister or something.
We went to the pizzeria and each got a slice and a coke. As we ate, two boys came in. One was about my age and one was older. He looked old enough to drive. They got their food and sat at the table right behind ours. They were talking.
"Boy, I’m glad I’m not HIM. He looks like he has girl’s hair. What a sissy!"
"Hey, don’t talk so loud. Maybe his mom makes him wear it that way."
"Do you think so? I wonder what other girl things he has to do."
I felt like jumping up from the table and running away. I was about to start crying, screaming and running all at once. I guess Mom noticed. "Robbie, take it easy. Don’t mind them."
It all came out at once in a flood of tears.
"Mom this is worse than being called a girl. I don’t want to be called a sissy. It would be better if they thought I was a girl, than call me a sissy all the time."
Mom just looked at me.
"We can talk about it when we get home." She spoke softly. I finished my pizza first and asked Mom if I could get some ices for dessert. Mom said okay and gave me money. I got up and went to the high counter. I scrunched down a little, so only my head and shoulders showed above the counter top. The man behind the counter was looking down, putting sauce and cheese on a pizza. He finished and shoveled the pizza into the oven. Then he turned to me.
"What would like, sweet heart?"
It’s working. This was just like the ice cream store waitress. He thinks I’m a girl. What will happen when I say something? "Could I please have a small cherry ice?" I tried to make myself sound like how I thought Betty or Caroline would sound.
"Of course"
I watched the man fill the paper cup. He used the flat metal paddle to pack the cup very full with ice. He wrapped a napkin around it and handed it to me. I gave him the dollar bill. In a few seconds he came back with the change. He also handed me a small plastic doll. The doll was about as long my hand. It had long black hair and was wearing a white apron with a green border. It said "Pete’s Pizza" on it in red.
"Would you like one of these?"
"Er...Oh yes, Thank you."
I didn’t look at the boys at the other table as I returned to my seat. I could hear them talking.
"See, even the pizza man thinks he looks like a girl. He gave him one of those dolls."
Mom was almost finished with her pizza. I put the doll on the table, as far from me as I could. I started to eat the ices so fast that I got a major pain between my eyes. I just wanted to get out of there. I guess Mom noticed my face screw up.
"You don’t have to rush. You can carry your ices with you."
"Ok Mom."
"Did you thank the man for the gift he gave you?"
"Yes, I did."
Mom put the little doll in her purse, and picked up her packages. She asked me to carry the package with the green dress in it. I felt like everyone was watching me. They couldn’t know that I was carrying a dress that I was expected to wear, could they?
I didn’t say anything else until we were out of the pizzeria and walking toward the toy store.
"Mom, I deliberately tried to talk like a girl when I was standing at the counter, getting my ices. I didn’t want the man to know I was a boy. I was trying to get him to think I was a girl, so he wouldn’t think I was a sissy. Can we just skip the toy store and go home?"
"Well, it looks like it worked. I’m really very proud of you. I know you did it to make it more comfortable for yourself, but I think the pizza man was more comfortable too. But why would you skip the toy store?" "Mom, I just told you. I don’t want people to make fun of me. I think I look like a half-girl."
"Don’t be silly. You look like a very neat, and well groomed boy." We got to the toy store and went in. I headed straight for the airplane models. I found just what I was looking for. It was a model of an A-10 Warthog. I had just seen a show about this kind of plane on TV. I carried the model kit to the check out with Mom by my side. There was an older woman working the cash register.
"Is this for you" She looked at me.
I just nodded
"It’s all right dear, I used to be a tomboy too. Today it’s fine for girls to wear pants and build airplane kits. Fly real ones, too. My daughter is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. She could be a beauty queen. Well, she is in the Air Force. Flies a tanker plane. Would you believe it?" Before I could say a word, she had pulled out two pictures from under the counter. They were of the same girl, but in one picture she looked like she was dressed for a very fancy party, and in the other she was wearing a flight suit. In the first picture, her hair was piled up on her head in big tubular curls. In the second picture her hair was drawn tightly back and she carried a helmet under her arm.
"See, today a girl can do anything she wants."
I left without saying a word.
Mom paid, thanked the woman, (for what?) and we left.
When we got in the car, I felt I had to talk to Mom right away. "Mom, I know I’m a boy. I like being a boy. I like doing stuff like fixing my bike and building models. I also like doing my hair, and how I look with a nice hairdo. I...I...I think I even liked how it felt to wear that dress. But I hate being teased. I can’t stand it. When somebody calls me a sissy, I want to run, cry, and tear his head off, all at the same time."
"How about when someone thinks you are a girl, not a sissy boy, just a regular girl."
"That bothers me a lot less than being called a sissy"
We didn’t say anything else about it for a week. It was summer vacation and Mom mostly just let me do what I wanted. She did keep to her rule about neat hair though.
One day, after swimming, I just brushed my hair while it was wet, without using any gel or setting lotion on it. It had dried by dinner, and had gotten pretty messy. Mom didn’t say a word at first. When I sat down to eat, there was a mirror propped up behind my plate. After dinner, I had to roll my hair and sleep in the rollers. In the morning, Mom made me keep the rollers in until almost lunch time.
Tommy came by to go kite flying. I was afraid that Mom was going to let him in, while I was still wearing rollers and a hairnet! She didn’t do that. She said the floor was wet from washing and made him wait in the yard. She quickly unrolled my hair, but wouldn’t let me wet it and get rid of the curls. In fact, she told me to spray them and watched me to make sure I used enough spray. Then she sent me out to meet Tommy. I know he could smell the fresh spray.
Mom gave us sandwiches and cans of soda to take to the park, along with our kites. Tommy didn’t say anything about my hair at first. While we were getting my bike from the shed, he looked closely at my hair and sniffed. "Rob, your hair smells just like my sister’s does when she gets ready for a date. Don’t tell me you use that spray can stuff on it." Tommy was as close as I had to a good friend. I didn’t need this from him.
"Yeah, I guess I do. My mother says I have to keep my hair neat, and she got me a can of spray to do it with."
"Can’t you just use water, or even hair tonic"
"Water doesn’t work for long, and I don’t like the way hair tonic looks."
Tommy didn’t say anything else, but he looked at me kind of fishy. The afternoon was breezy and the kites were way up, at the end of our rolls of string. About 2 PM, it got cloudy and the breeze stopped. The kites fell to the ground. While we were rolling up the string, it began to rain hard. We raced for Tommy’s house. It was about a half mile closer than mine. We were drenched when we got there. Tommy went up to his room to change. His mother gave me a towel to dry off with.
"I don’t think Tommy would mind if we lent you some of his clothes. You guys are about the same size."
I spent the afternoon in Tommy’s tee shirt and jeans. I hadn’t worn a tee shirt and jeans more than twice this summer, it seemed. I got home about 5:30. I put my bike away and came inside.
"I see you got caught in the rain."
"Yeah, did it come down!"
"Tommy lent you some dry clothes, I see."
"Yeah, actually his mother did."
"I guess you never thought to borrow a comb, though." I reached up to feel my hair. It felt like stiff hay. I rushed to the hall mirror. My hair was a mess. Some of it was stuck flat to my head, some stuck up like weeds. I remembered I had dried it quickly with the towel, but I hadn’t done anything else with it.
"You spent the afternoon at a friend’s house looking like a drowned rat. I’m sure Mrs. Henderson would have lent you a comb or a brush. You just weren’t thinking about my rule at all. You know it applies away from home even more than here."
"I guess I forgot"
"Well, we can fix that. I’m making an appointment for you at the salon."
"Mom, I don’t want my hair cut at a salon"
"Oh don’t worry. There won’t be any cutting done. I’ll be making an appointment for your first perm."
"Mom, please don’t make me go to a salon. Everybody will see me there. They’ll tease me till I die."
"You should have worried about that before you decided that your mother’s rule about neat hair just wasn’t important enough to remember."
"It just isn’t fair, Tommy asked me about the hairspray I was wearing, as it was. If I asked his mom for a brush, what would he have thought about me then?"
Mom glared at me, as her voice got louder. She squeezed my shoulder as she spoke. I looked down.
"When are you going to learn who’s opinion you have to think about? I don’t care how long it takes, or how I have to punish you. You are going to learn to live by my standards of grooming, dress and gentility. Now you have earned yourself a permanent wave, and that’s that."
"Mom, can’t you punish me a different way? I promise I’ll keep my hair really nice. I just don’t want people to see me getting my hair done at a salon."
"Well, you will be getting a permanent. I haven’t decided exactly when yet, so you still have a chance to show that you are worthy of a pleasant experience instead of a completely humiliating one. Now get up to your room and get ready for dinner. You have an hour and a half, and we are going shopping after dinner."
"Do I have to go along?"
"Yes, I can’t buy you shoes without you along."
"Mom, I already have shoes, and sneakers, and even beach shoes. "
"You don’t have any shoes that go with your pretty green dress. I think you need a pair. This came today."
Mom handed me an envelope. It had come through the mail. I almost never got mail. This envelope was about half the size of a regular letter and it was pink. It was still sealed.
"What does this have to do with girl’s shoes? Besides it’s still sealed" Mom smiled a tiny bit.
"Let’s just say it is a mother’s secret."
I opened the envelope. There was a pink card inside. On it was a cartoon of two kittens holding up a banner. It said "We’re planning a purrrfect party." Inside the card Betty had written "The Wells Girls Club is having an afternoon tea party, at Ashley’s house, on Tuesday July 16th at 3PM. Please wear something pretty. RSVP by July 9th" How did she know? First to buy me the dress, then that there was an invitation in the envelope.
"Mom what does RSVP mean?"
"It means you have to tell Betty if you are going to the party."
"When is July 9th?"
"Tomorrow"
I was very confused as I went up to my room. It was clear that Mom wanted me to go to a girls club tea party next week, completely dressed as a girl. I would probably have a permanent wave by then too. I didn’t even really know what a permanent wave was, it just sounded very final, like it was a way to make me look like a girl forever. Worse, it was going to happen at salon, in public. We were even going to buy girls shoes for me tonight. And there was the whole thing about Mom not making the appointment yet. Maybe I could get her to change her mind.
I decided to give myself the best hairdo I’d ever done, and to wear clothes that Mom would like.
I undressed, showered and shampooed my hair. I left the conditioner in a little longer than usual, then rinsed it out. I figured Mom would like it if I was a bit dressed up, so I started to put on my clean chinos and a shirt with a collar. Then I thought about trying on girl’s shoes with boy’s pants and shirt. Sissy for sure. I didn’t want that to happen again. Better let them think I’m a girl, if it makes them happy.
I picked out the purple shirt that I was sure now was a really a "mother and daughter" blouse, and white shorts. I also picked out white socks and my new white sneakers. The new girls panties that mom got me with the dress were on top of my underwear drawer. Why not. I got dressed. I had worn all of this stuff before, except the panties. They were a surprise. They felt so smooth and cool as I pulled them up, I was afraid they would slip right back down. They rubbed against my penis in a smooth slippery way that made it start to get stiff. I wanted to slide the panties around, just for the feeling, but I had promised myself a nice hairdo and I only had an hour left. I used an extra towel to get out as much water off my hair as possible. I didn’t want to spend extra time drying. I put on a lot of gel. I also picked out small rollers from the bag. I knew they would give me definite curls, but Mom liked curls. I wound the rollers as tight as I could. I rewound one roller twice, because it seemed to be loose at one end. I did my bangs straight, but with plenty of gel and some tape. I noticed that my hair was getting longer. It seemed I could get the rollers about a quarter turn more that at first, and I could now use one more roller over each ear. With my bangs brushed down and taped in place, they definitely touched my eyebrows. After putting on a dark blue hairnet, I set up my dryer.
I sat under the dryer and picked up the Hairstyle magazine. There was an article called "Grow It Out, For Glamour" The article showed pictures of girls with short hairstyles, and artist’s sketches of how they would look after letting their hair grow for six months, and after a year. The article said that if a good stylist trimmed your hair every 3 months, it would grow out while looking pretty all the time. I didn’t know if the girls were really going to look like the sketches after a year, but the artists sure had drawn some nice hairdos. I really liked looking at the hairstyle pictures while sitting under the dryer, with the hot damp smell of my hair around my face, and the smooth panty fabric sliding against my penis whenever I moved. I was dry in half an hour, as usual. I hadn’t really planned how to comb out my hair. I took out the rollers. I always enjoy the springiness of new curls. I left the bangs for last.
I started from the back and slowly brushed through each curl. I loosened each coil of hair a bit and tried to arrange each on top of the one below. Finally, I very gently brushed through my bangs, just enough to get out the stiffness of the gel, but not enough to disturb the sleek, shiny look. When I sprayed my hair, I think I put on enough to hold it through a tornado. I was ready to go down for dinner.
"Oh Robbie, you look so sweet. Turn around so I can see you from the back."
I turned around.
"Why can’t you dress like this all the time. I wish we didn’t have to have scenes like before. You can make me so proud of you sometimes. I just wish you would do it more often."
"Mom, exactly what is a permanent wave? Does it really last forever?"
"Not really forever. They say it lasts until your hair grows out, and you cut the curls off. But I think perms often loosen up quicker than that."
"Is it like getting your hair set?"
"Something like it, but with special chemicals instead gel or setting lotion"
"Like with glue, or varnish that doesn’t wash out?" Mom laughed a bit.
"I don’t think that’s how it works. I have to finish cooking. This meal is taking a bit longer than I planned. Why don’t you look up permanents in the encyclopedia?"
I got out the P volume of our old encyclopedia. There it was "Permanent Wave," right between "Permafrost" and "Perry, Admiral." It said it was a treatment for the hair of girls and women, designed to "impart waves or curls."
There was a small picture of a woman sitting in a chair with heavy wires attached to her head. The wires went up to some kind of machine. The woman in the picture wasn’t smiling. The picture caption said that the woman was getting a new hairdo with the help of a modern, electric permanent wave machine. The article was full of long chemical names and talked about "softening the hair, then molding it to shape and hardening it again." I was scared to death, but I was somehow I was excited too. That machine looked uncomfortable and dangerous, like a mad scientist had built it. Would a lady sit there attached to it, just to get her hair curled? What was I in for? I was still leafing through the encyclopedia when Mom called me for dinner.
"Robbie, wash your hands and come eat."
"OK, Mom"
"Have you decided about the party yet?"
"I’m not sure. I like the friends I met at Betty’s house, but I’m not sure I want to dress as a girl just to play with them." "What does it matter how your dressed? Good friends are hard to find. If you’re lucky enough to find a whole group of them at a time, shouldn’t you do your best to keep them?"
"I guess so. Right after dinner, I’ll call Betty and say I’m coming to the party."
"Good. I called the shoe store, they will be open late, so we have some time."
I called Betty after dinner. She said she was happy that I would be at the party. She even sounded happy. She told me that it was going to be a dress up tea party, just like they had in England. Everyone would be wearing pretty things, and we were supposed to act like "fine young ladies." She said that her dress was dark pink color.
She wanted know what I would be wearing. I told her I had a new green dress. She asked me so many questions about it! I didn’t think you could say so many things about a dress! I hemmed and hawed a lot. I really didn’t know what style the sleeves were, or if it had a Peter Pan collar. I couldn’t even remember if it had a belt.
She asked me about my hair too. I told her that I hadn’t decided on a hairdo yet.
"Remember, it’s a dressy party. You can have your hair as fancy as you want."
I started thinking about my permanent wave again and remembered that Betty was something of a hair expert.
"Betty, can I er.. ask you something about my hair?"
"Sure."
"Betty, my mom wants me to get a permanent wave, at a salon, and I’m scared."
Betty was quiet for a minute.
"I guess you’re a bit shy too."
"Yeah, all those ladies at the salon...."
Betty didn’t say anything about the machine, and I didn’t want to mention it first. I was still a boy and supposed to be brave. "Well, would like me to ask my mother if she could give you a perm right here? Then you wouldn’t feel silly in front of all those strangers. My mother and I have already seen you in rollers."
"I think my mom really wants to take to the salon where she goes, but I’d rather not go there."
"I’ll ask my mother to call yours tonight."
"Thanks, Betty. Better wait about 2 hours though, mom is taking me shopping for shoes to wear with that dress."
That led to a discussion about shoes. Wow, can girls talk about clothes and stuff. I had no idea what she was talking about. We got to the shoe store about 7 PM. The salesman didn’t hesitate for a minute.
"Good evening. What can I help you ladies with?" I squirmed but kept my mouth shut. Visions of that hair-waving contraption popped into my head.
"Robbie here needs a pair of pretty dress shoes to go with a dark green dress."
The man returned with 3 pairs of green socks and a measuring stick. Mom picked one pair of socks.
"Those are about the same color as the dress. We’ll get them." I put on the socks. They were long, almost up to my knees. They were very thin. Then the man measured my foot. Soon he returned with a pair of dark brown girl’s shoes. They were very light and had a T shaped strap with a tiny buckle.
"Oh classic Mary Janes, but so delicate looking."
Mom seemed happy.
I tried them on. They seemed to fit, but they felt so bare. I’d hate to walk in the snow in these!
I walked a bit in them. They felt ok. I guess if I had to wear girl’s shoes, these would do. I was ready to leave. Mom had other ideas. I tried on Mary Janes in white, black and green in addition to the brown ones. I also tried on something mom called "flats," that had no laces or straps. We finally left the store with 2 new pairs. I now owned 2 pairs of girls dress shoes. White Mary Janes, and super shiny brown flats. I wore the white Mary Janes and my white socks to go home.
"I’m so proud of you. That salesman thought you were a pretty, well behaved young girl, and you knew just how to act. You certainly have come a long way."
I didn’t tell her I was hoping she would be so happy she would forget about the perm.
The phone was ringing as we came through the door. It was Ruth Thomas, Betty’s mother. Mom talked with her for about ten minutes. Finally she hung up and turned to me.
"Well, you made yourself a deal. Miss Ruth will be doing your perm, at her house. Betty is going to help her. You won’t have to worry about all those evil ladies at the salon looking at you."
Mom had a big friendly smile on her face.
"I gave in because you were so good about the shoes."
I was still scared. I guess it showed on my face.
"What is it dear?"
"Mom, does she have one of those machines, hidden in the basement or something" "What machine, sweetie?"
"The Electric Permanent Wave Machine, like in the encyclopedia."
Mom began to laugh.
"Is that what you were so frightened of? Almost no one has used one of those in years. They were very uncomfortable to sit under. Sometimes they left your hair much too frizzy. You’ll be getting the latest cold wave, not a machine permanent."
Now, I was really confused.
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