March of the Southern Belles

by Heidi-Jo McGillicuddy

Chapter Five

  

Brunch was delightful, although I nibbled at my avocado and sprouts sandwich more out of distaste rather than any manifest desire to display appropriately dainty table manners. It was such a pleasure to eat in such exquisite surroundings--the sterling silverware absolutely gleamed, and I'd never eaten off of such beautiful china. Lisa giggled and pointed to the lipstick I'd left on the rim of my iced tea glass. Dessert was a wonderful chocolate pecan tart. I was careful to not get any crumbs on my gown.

After the lunch, we all listened attentively to Ms. Herndon as she stood and spoke about the history of the Heritage Day Parade and the Ladies Auxiliary, thanking both the volunteers who worked to create all of the colorful ball gowns and of course, us, the Belles. Then, video taken of us marching in the parade earlier that day was screened.

The effect of three dozen southern belles filling up Main Street with a sea of pastel colors and crinoline was not lost on videotape, and I indeed had to pay attention in order to spot myself among the belles as we all filed past the camera. I caught a glimpse of myself all in lavender, however; I was smiling hugely, my face framed by my floppy-brimmed hat and ribbon and by the twin puffy shoulders of my dress. The full length of my long, satin glove could be glimpsed on my upraised arm as I merrily waved at everybody, and I appeared to be gliding, most ladylike, in my hoopskirt.

When the brunch concluded, I gathered my hoops and stood, but I soon found myself surrounded by members of the Ladies Auxiliary who began congratulating me, complimenting me, touching me, hugging me, and gushing over me, one at a time. I stood there holding my long-stemmed rose, smiled and repeatedly thanked them, but it seemed as though every last woman at the gathering wanted just a few more seconds with me. I felt grateful for my hoops at that point, as they did afford me a little bit of standing room (if not breathing room) but eventually I began to despair that I would never be able to tear myself away from them.

Lisa must have sensed my distress, as she finally squeezed her way up to me, took my hand, and very politely announced that I needed to go upstairs to take care of some personal needs. The ladies all immediately understood, of course, and there was an instantaneous parting of the crowd to allow me back over to the staircase, where I picked up my skirts and began the long upward climb, pausing before I disappeared behind the curve to turn and wave goodbye.

While upstairs, I found my hat and sat down at a little vanity to see if I could properly place it on my head without Lisa's help. I slowly adjusted the brim behind my head so that it best framed my face, and then began to carefully tie the ribbon below my chin, creating a pretty fair approximation of the perfect floppy bow that Lisa had tied earlier. Then I slid the gloves up my arms, perhaps for the last time, and stood up, enjoying the now-familiar feeling of my hoops dropping into position and taking a moment to spin before a full length mirror, making sure that my skirts were straight in every direction.

I needed some fresh air. I went down the rear staircase and exited the Carriage House through the back door. I needed a few moments to myself; I wanted to walk the beautiful grounds of the estate in my hoopskirt and enjoy the beautiful lake view one last time before climbing onto the bus to return to the community center. To my male identity, to my pants and t-shirt, my keys, cash and I.D.

At this point, my feelings about having to do this were decidedly mixed. While it would be a relief to be free of the tight corset and the relative inconvenience of the hoopskirt, there was something undoubtedly luxurious about being covered from head to toe with such softness and such beauty; I knew it would be quite a comedown to be back on Main Street in the near future, driving in my crappy little Tercel stick shift, my front seat loaded down with somebody else's dinner, a magnetic sign on my roof, wearing a scratchy polo shirt with a corporate logo over my heart and being subjected to loud, filthy rap music blasting out of the car next to me. I much preferred eating off of fine china, using a brightly polished bouillon spoon to consume a delicious bowl of vichyssoise, using a linen napkin nestled within the multiple ruffles on my lap to dab at the corner of my carefully lipsticked mouth.

There was a lovely swing near the gazebo. I picked up my hoops, sat on it, and redistributed my petticoats around my legs as slowly began to sing and gaze out over the lake. The sun was warm against the exposed skin above my bodice, and I clasped my gloved hands in my lap and relaxed.

I closed my eyes and thought about Lisa. Would she be able to look at me the same way after seeing me like this? I certainly hoped she would. Wearing a dress didn't change the way I felt about her, or the way I felt about women in general…I enjoyed being allowed to enter such a feminine inner sanctum, and the opportunity it afforded me to socialize with the women of the Ladies Auxiliary, but I was happy to do it without actually becoming a woman. It certainly beat working in a pizza store, dealing with foulmouthed co-workers and angry customers.

As I sat there in my gown, swinging contentedly, I had to reflect that it was the acceptance I had felt from the other belles and from the Ladies Auxiliary that was the source of my inner serenity. At first it had been Lisa's support of me, first as a man, and then as a man in a ball gown, that had inspired me to dress up like this; but if dressing as a Southern Belle for a day had turned out to be a humiliating experience, I certainly wouldn't be feeling such satisfaction and bliss right now. I looked down at my ruffles and bows for the millionth time and felt no shame, only beauty.

And then suddenly I knew that Lisa was behind me, walking over from the carriage house, even though I couldn't see her. I could smell her fragrance, though, drifting with the breeze; I could hear the rustle of her skirts, and the girlish tune she tended to absently hum to herself at odd times. Then I felt her soft, satin gloves on either shoulder, and I reached up to touch her hand with my own.

"I wish I had my pants with me," I said.

"You do?" Her tone was surprised, upset. "Why?"

I gathered my skirts and slid off of the swing. "Because," I said. I turned, looked at her, and fluttered my eyelashes.

She looked disappointed. "Well," she said softly, "I mean, I don't mind you in pants. It was just fun having you in skirts today."

"And I had fun in skirts," I said. "It's just that I wasn't expecting to be in skirts. I wasn't prepared."

"Well," she said, "I mean, I thought about asking you last night if you wanted to do this, to dress up, but I was so afraid you'd sleep on it and decide not to do it, even though I had a hunch you'd be telling me that because…you thought I wouldn't want you too…" She balled up her hands into small yellow fists. "I was in love with the idea of you as a belle, I wanted a Southern Belle of my own to love, I was hoping to get you in a hoopskirt even you didn't want to wear one, and I was hoping you'd have fun…"

"I had fun," I said. "This has been one of the greatest days of my life. It's just that there was something that…" I tried to find the right words.

"That what?" she asked.

I took a deep breath. "I was waiting for the right moment," I told her. "I'd been waiting for it, but it hadn't come, and I wasn't sure if it would ever come."

"What is it?" she asked.

I took both of her small hands in mine. "This is that perfect moment that I was waiting for, and I just wish that I had my pants with me. But not so that I could wear them."

"Well, why then?" she asked.

As we stood there in front of the gazebo over looking that beautifully calm lake on such a lovely spring day, I held both of her hands in mine. "Lisa?" I asked.

"What?"

She was beautiful. The floppy yellow ribbon below her chin fluttered slightly in the breeze, and I felt her fingers tighten around mine.

Very slowly, I dropped to one knee. My hoops and my dress sank towards the ground with me. "I wish I had my pants," I told her, "because for the past two weeks I've been carrying around a ring in my pants, and it's still in my pants, back in the dressing room at the Community Center."

She gasped. Then her eyes began to rapidly blink.

"This would have been the perfect moment," I started to say, but she put a single, yellow, satin-tipped finger to my lips.

"Don't say anything else," she said. "Let's not say anything else until we get back to the dressing room."

"O.K.," I said.

We just looked at one another for a minute, and then I stood up. I felt her arms go around me, and I held her close. "Kiss me," I told her.

"We'll mess up our lipstick," she giggled.

"Frankly my dear," I told her, "I don't give a damn."

"LADIES!" Gretchen shouted.

Once again, we were the last two belles to get on the bus. We squeezed into the last two seats and rustled against one another for the entire ride. And when we arrived back at the community center, we were oblivious to the world as we silently walked, her yellow-gloved hand in my lavender-gloved hand, and when we finally got back to our dressing room, we entered it together, and then we closed the door behind us.

***

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was inspired by a couple of YouTube videos. I'd like to thank "atlmcm1900", the person who posted them. The clips can be found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9L2Vca3lc5U and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xue0n0JqCeY

This story was written very much on the fly. I hope someday to go back and try and reshape all five chapters into a slightly more cohesive whole, but in the meantime, please feel free to drop me a line at heidijo236@yahoo.com. I would love to hear from you!

  

  

  

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