T.J.’s Experiment in Pink

by Anne O’Nonymous

 

PART FIVE

Yipes! My pathetic attempts at hiding my identity were fruitless. Now what? God, what if they accidentally expose who I am.

"Hey girl, you look nice in that uniform," Nancy said, holding me at arm’s length, "is that the school you attend?"

Toni interjected, "No, she goes to Branford. She’s thinking of going there, so I lent her my old uniform to see how it looks on her."

"I must say, Terri, you do look good in that uniform," Ms. Mueller stated, "alright girls, I’ve got a card – let’s go!"

"Emm, Ms. Mueller," I said, trying to figure what was going to happen.

"Terri, that includes you, too! And all of you, it’s Kathy, please."

"Yes, ma’am," the group chorused, as if rehearsed.

With Nancy dragging me, we entered where very few men travel – the junior miss department. Lucky for me I was as tall as most of the girls, so, except for the uniform, I managed to blend in. The colors everywhere were all so nice – pastels, earth tones, florals, and solids. How can anybody make a choice from so many?

"I’ll get a changing room," Sandra said, running off.

"C’mon, Terri, let’s get some things and try them on," said a gleeful Nancy.

I saw the rest picking out things and holding them up for inspection, but, picking through the rack in front of me, I hadn’t a clue about dresses and such. I didn’t know colors, styles, or even what type dress was what.

"Let’s start with a dress for the office or school," Nancy said, taking and holding up a business suit.

"Look, I really don’t have a clue about these duds," I admitted to her in a whisper.

"Relax. Just go along with me, and we’ll try on lots of stuff in the back. Let’s just grab what looks good, and we can pick out what we want."

"Sandy didn’t put any money in my bag," I hissed.

"No prob! Mom’s got a platinum card she can max out."

Well, I followed this wonderful creature, charging into the shopping frenzy around me. There were blouses, jumpers, A-lines, and goodness knows what else, along with panties, slips and other dainty items in an actual rainbow of colors. I stood there transfixed by the selection before me. Nancy dragged me into a room at the back of the store where my sister stood guard. Inside, I heard her command, "okay, off with that uniform."

Soon, down to my undies, I was trying on a tangerine blouse with a royal blue skirt. I mean there I was, standing in front of my sister, Nancy, Judy and Jean in underwear – Toni’s – trying on girl’s things, most of them being documented on a digital camera.

"No, that’s unlined. She will need a full slip with that," one said before she exited to find just the right one.

"She could use pettipants with those slacks," said another, slipping out.

"Pettipants?"

"They’re like a petticoat, only they are worn under slacks, shorts or pants."

Mystified, "Oh!" was the only thing I could think of to say.

Soon, it was Judy, Nancy and myself in underwear, trying on various slips, half-slips, dresses, and blouse-and-skirt combos. Each young lady was critiquing me, expressing their concern regarding the wrong color, style, or whatnot. Jean and Kathy slipped in for a look on odd occasions. They were actually quite helpful, as I was soon able to see for myself the subtle differences in how I appeared.

"Okay, Terri, show and tell," said Nancy, as she zipped up the back of a jumper.

Well, it had to happen! I was now paraded outside, in front of Kathy and store customers. At least, Nancy was with me. I walked over, twirled around in my imitation of a fashion model, and was rewarded with a smile from Kathy, and clapping from some who witnessed the action. I did this in three other dresses. The final outfit was a business suit, one of those charcoal gray pin-stripe skirt-suits you see on female executives, and the laciest half-slip I had seen up-to-now. With a price tag on the suit in the "marked-down" one hundred dollar plus range, I knew it was mostly for show.

"Terri, that looks good on you, how’s the fit?"

I thought for a sec, checked the half-slip in a nearby mirror, then pronounced in reply, "It feels good."

"It’s yours!"

Whoa, did she just say that! It’s mine! Okay, what’s the catch?

In the back, privately for the girls, I modeled two lacy full slips, one red and one black, two bra-and-panty sets, and I managed a panty girdle, and a pink panty-and-garter-belt with just a slight blush. Plus other things I tried to forget. I remembered to get back into the familiar school uniform and check my appearance in the dressing room’s full-length mirror before leaving.

In the end, I walked out of the shop with enough clothes, girl’s clothes, for a full summer. The variety and styles were mind-boggling!

"How about some jewelry, Terri," Kathy inquired.

I pleaded "no" with my eyes, as I didn’t know what to expect next. But, I seemed to have no choice in the matter. Rather, I felt I had no choice.

"Alright then, jewelry it is," she replied, walking off in the direction of the Jingles and Bangles Boutique, and we just followed.

There, I got a pearl necklace, matching earrings, two bracelets, and a pin matching one worn by Nancy. At the insistence of Sandra, and goaded on by the others, I had my ears pierced.

OH GREAT! Now how am I going to explain that to mom. "Well, you see mom, there was this door-to-door ear piercing salesman, and I couldn’t resist!" Yeah! I might be able to cover it, no – hell, lots of boys at school have pierced ears. Any way, the studs do look nice.

"Hey, how ’bout lunch," Jean stated.

"Mom, I am getting hungry," Nancy added.

"Okay, lunch it is. Remember, it’s on me," Kathy stated, and went off to find a suitable restaurant, us tagging along. No wonder this woman was rich and powerful, she leads and you follow, or else you get left at the wayside.

 

"Tiptons" is one of those small restaurants that are favored by locals. It is primarily a seafood place, but a good place for lunch as it was cheap, clean, and available. We managed to put two tables together, making one large enough to seat the group. The luncheon menu featured mostly salads, sandwiches, diet drinks, and tea or coffee. I had a Caesar salad with Ranch dressing and Earl Grey tea, although I would’ve preferred English Breakfast.

As we ate, a discussion started about men and their bad habits, and I think this group knew them all: walking out on families, adultery with secretaries, alcoholics, date rape, child molestation, etc. The conversation brought out strong emotional feelings, making me feel so bad, I wanted to crawl under the table and die. Many times I feel my sensitivity is a weakness, a curse, and I wish I could be rid of it.

"Hey, Terri, you okay?" Kathy said abruptly.

"Not really," I replied.

I was startled when she grabbed me and half dragged me to the ladies room. Taking me to the mirror over the sinks, she showed me how I looked. The streaks said it all. I was glad Sandy stocked my shoulder bag with extra tissues.

"Are you okay to face them again?" Kathy said, repairing my facial damage.

"I’m sorry, Ms. Mueller. It’s just that it’s so unfair what happened."

"I know, sweetie, I know," she replied in a whisper, hugging me.

Returning to the table, the girls asked how I was feeling and if they had anything to do with it.

"No! There is just so much unfairness in the world that I simply have trouble accepting. That’s what got me upset: the feeling . . . , the inability to make any kind of difference."

"Tea," Fran replied, "Just stay as you are – that will make a difference to us."

"Terri, I have a problem, and seeing you as you are today may be the solution," Kathy said, slowly, reluctantly.

"If I may be of any help," I replied. This woman gave my mother a chance at work to become more than she ever dreamed of, and by God, I would do whatever necessary to help.

"Okay, you can accept or reject. During the summer, Nancy works as a receptionist in my company. My personal secretary needs to take a leave of absence, due to her mother’s terminal cancer. I demanded she go and stay with her until the end; but, being loyal to me, she will not go unless I tell her I have a replacement. I want you to be that replacement."

"Okay, I can do that. In preparation for college, I took courses in shorthand, I can use most word processing software and equipment including copiers, and I’ve helped mom on some occasions."

"My office is ninety percent female. Most males are security, and they are on the lower levels. It means you will have to dress as one each day. You must appear as feminine as all the rest."

Oh my! Did I just open my big mouth to swallow a whale? What have I done!

"Terri, mostly it is filing, reminding me of appointments, taking dictation, running interference with unwanted visitors, and running errands."

"I don’t make good coffee, I type slowly, and I don’t know which room to use."

Her laugh was pleasant for a woman of her position.

"I’ll make you coffee, I have a computer for you, and we have only two lady’s rooms in the office proper."

I wanted to help, but it seemed there were too many questions.

"Terri, I’ll clear it with your mother, you’ll get $7.50 an hour, a half hour lunch – with Nancy – and you’ll know you helped someone in need."

I don’t know what made me say "yes," but Nancy was a large part of it.

"Wonderful! I knew I could count on Ms. Matthews daughter to come through! You’ll start tomorrow, Monday."

Okay, say it if you want to, but I felt DAMN GOOD. So what if I would be wearing skirts for the summer, I would make nearly five hundred dollars, give or take a few bucks, before I returned to school. What’s more, I would be near Nancy!

"Oh, another thing, Terri. Since you’re assisting me, the minimum you’ll get is six hundred dollars – I’ll take care of any tax problems."

Singing

Gladdens the heart

But occasionally hurts the ears.

 

I joined the group in the ladies, fighting for mirror space to fix my lipstick, getting instructions on what I missed, and doing what had to be done. I did this without a second’s hesitation, although I would have thought one of the girls would object, but there wasn’t a murmur; in fact, they were quite helpful to me.

 

With that over, the group went back to shopping. I was certain mom would want me to earn money for school, but this might be a real shocker. Then again, Kathy was mom’s boss.

"Where now," Sandra inquired.

"Does Terri have proper shoes for office wear?"

"They’re all flats!"

"Okay, shoes it is. We need heels, and she can wear flats or moccasins at work, like the rest of the staff."

 

"Walkaways" was our next destination. I was amazed that no one seemed to notice I was a man (boy really) in women’s clothes. I guess I really was blending in fairly well.

"Here we are" announced Kathy as we entered the emporium. There were racks and racks of all kinds of colors, types and sizes of footwear. Nancy guided me to the female section, and soon I had my shoes off and a pair of 2" pumps on.

"May I help you?" That inquiry came from a clerk who appeared out of nowhere.

"Umm, not really. My friend here needs shoes for office work, and she’s been wearing flats for god knows how long."

Well, I tried on several pairs of heels, walked, with some assistance, around the store, and tried on more. Sitting there, allowing the clerk to fit the shoes, I had the unnerving experience of catching him looking up my dress. Seeing Sandra, I pointed at the clerk and tried to indicate what he had done. She just shook her head, as if to say, "Accept it, and welcome to girl land."

Finally, I wound up with three pumps in various heel heights, two moccasins, two strappy flats, and a pair of Oxfords. I was now in debt to Ms. Mueller to the tune of $667.75.

Leaving the shoe shop, the next stop was "Gardenia’s," a beauty supply shop. My sister forgot to tell me that I was getting a beauty makeover. I hoped the wig was on good and tight. Well, there was this cream, that lotion, this skin moisturizer, that cleanser, and then there were the cosmetics.

"My cousin doesn’t know much about those things, her family was rather strict about makeup on young girls," Sandy said, as explanation, to the operator-clerk.

I left there with $226.95 worth of cosmetics, a videotape of their proper usage, and a new lease on life. I actually looked like a woman in mirrors, not some teenager pretending to be grown up, but a mature woman on the prowl for a potential mate.

"Terri, I’m sorry I had lunch, because I could eat you up right now," Nancy stated, her eyes hungrily traveling all over my feminized body.

I smiled, hooked her arm, and said, "Maybe I could be your dessert?"

"Ahem, there are people watching, and I’m not selling tickets," Kathy reported.

"I think we had enough for today, Kathy. On behalf of my sister, Terri, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for us today."

Each of the others expressed their thanks with a hug and kiss, first to Kathy, then Nancy. I did the same, only I kissed Nancy a little longer.

Nancy and Kathy headed one way, our group another. Catching up with us was Toni, who had hit the record shop and arcade.

"Yo, mah fine ho’s, wassup!"

I wondered where she picked THAT up! I didn’t think that was in her vocabulary.

"Hi," she said, hooking arms with me and Fran, "After that arcade visit, I need some real speech. I snatched a quarter from two pale dudes, ya know wah I’m sayin’."

Sandra was first: "Toni, speak a language we can understand."

"Sorry. I just beat two dummies in the arcade, made twenty-five bucks – my reflexes were just too fast for them."

Jean, weighed down a bit, added: "Here, grab a bag. We’re headed for home."

Soon it was out exit 6, and back to the cars. Toni was riding with Judy, as we were going home and not back to Toni’s.

I thanked each girl individually for what turned out to be a very nice day. One thing I realized was that girls bond more than boys ever do. Right now, I felt tighter to this group than I ever could with any male group.

I waved my good-byes to Judy and friends, as Fran opened her car door for me. I stuck my butt in, sat, twisted and slid over, remembering to adjust what had to be fixed. As Fran filled her trunk with our purchases, Sandra got in beside me.

"Well, Tea, was it that bad?" she asked, broadly smiling.

"Sis, I’m so grateful for this day with your friends, I just don’t have words to describe how I feel," I replied, regretting my inability to convey my exact present state of mind.

Pain is what

We allow ourselves to feel

When we feel nothing else.

 

"I do love that blue floral print full skirt, Terri, it does look nice on you. Especially with that pale lemon blouse and silver Celtic pendant."

"Thanks, Fran. I was just wondering what I should wear when I start with Ms. Mueller. The gray pinstripe or the royal blue suit."

"Gray, for starters! Let her know you will be professional, then you can go with lighter and brighter colors," my sister stated.

The rest of the talk on the way home was in a similar vein, as I seemed to find the clothing more interesting and wanted to know more. It was less boring than finding a pair of pants -- men go in, find their size, try it on, buy it and leave. To get a dress, I had to check the fit, the color, the material, how well it was made, compare it to other dresses, imagine accessories that could go with it, and then think if there was anything else I needed. (I kind of wonder what would happen if women’s slacks were available in only three colors: brown, black, and navy blue.)

The selection in lotions, hair colors and perfumes was mind staggering. I nearly fainted at the overwhelming choices available.

"Hey, TJ, you’re awfully quiet back there," Fran said.

"I was taking in what happened today. I am thinking in terms of a multivariable equation. Perfume, for example: Obsession, Charlie, Chanel No. 5, and on. I get to wear Old Spice cologne, whoopie! How is it possible for a woman to select the things she wears?"

"Well, it’s your first day at this. We’ve a few years on you, and we’re still learning. Each time we shop, we learn a little more about what works and what doesn’t. In time, you’ll do the same."

That brought me awake. MOM! This could be the first and last time for this – and that consideration snapped me into a brooding silence. If wind of this ever gets back to her, I’ll be grounded for the next two years, at the least! I kept a hope that it would never happen.

As we neared home, I anxiously looked to see if mom’s car was there. A bare spot appeared where mom usually parked – it appeared to be safe. Fran pulled into the driveway, parked, got out and went to get the myriad of bags out of the trunk. Meanwhile, I got out my side, and Sandra exited on hers.

Picture three girls trudging across a grassy lawn, up five steps to a gray-painted wooden porch, thence to a front door, each loaded with four shopping bags. Well, that was us! I had hoped to get in, clean up and change before mom got home. We crossed the porch, Sandra with house key at the ready. At the door, she sat down the bags, and put the key to the lock, then suddenly stopped.

"Tea," she said, shaking, "Tea, the door’s unlocked."

"We . . . we locked it when we left . . . didn’t we?" I asked, apprehensively, with my heart pounding in my chest, hands shaking, and a cold sweat starting to come over me.

"Yes! Do you think we ought to go next door and call the police?"

"How are you going to explain me?"

"Oh!"

I knew that would constitute a problem, but I could disappear for a time.

"What’s wrong, why aren’t we going in? My arm’s getting tired," Fran reported.

"Fran, our door is unlocked, and we locked when we left. There could be someone inside that shouldn’t be there!"

As we stood there, figuring what to do, the doorknob turned, and the door slowly swung open. If it was mom, my goose was singed, broiled, roasted, and charcoal(ed?) in one operation.

"C’mon in, the three of you. I got Chinese on the table, and it’s getting cold."

"Errr, mom, I can . . . "

"Mom, it’s all my fault . . . ," Sandra interrupted.

"NO! Definitely, you will NOT take any blame, Sandy, and that’s final!" I managed to spit out as vehemently as possible, without sounding angry, "Mom, I did this all myself, Sandra had nothing . . ."

"Look, the two of you, and you too Fran, I said there’s food, and I’m hungry, now let’s discuss this as we eat, okay?"

We didn’t wait. Two girls and a "boy in a dress," with at least a dozen bags between them, trudged to a kitchen table loaded with takeout boxes of bor lor gai pan, two noodle dishes, Yang Chow fried rice, Shrimp with almonds, peppers and tomatoes, Tea, and the usual fortune cookies. (Right now, I felt like calling them "MISfortune cookies.")

Four of us sat down, and three enjoyed the food. I waited for mom to explode in anger; an anger I knew she rightfully had towards me. Maybe I should just disappear for awhile, say twenty years.

"Tea, sweetheart, whose uniform is that? Are you thinking of changing schools?"

"It’s Toni’s, mom," I stated in a whisper. I took a few bites of food, lost interest in eating, and desperately wanted to go to bed. I sat there, head bowed, my hands in my lap, trying to stem a flood of imminent tears, makeup or not.

"Mom, may I be excused, please?" I said in my most pleading voice.

"No, dear, at least not at this moment. Please, eat as much as you want."

"I can’t, mom," I said, the tears running down and onto the empty plate in front of me.

"LOOK AT ME!" Mom suddenly shouted, grabbing hold me by my chin, "You are JUST FINE . . . just fine as you are. Look, sweetheart, do you remember when we had Take-Your-Daughter-to-Work Day, mother-and-daughter dinners, and the Christmas Party for girls? I wanted you to be there with me …us, and it hurt me a lot when I had to exclude you. I wanted so desperately for you to be a part of my . . . our life. Each time we left you alone, I had an empty feeling, like a piece of me had been torn away. Now, in that uniform, you look just like a second daughter to me. No, I’m not upset in the least – in fact, I’m proud you want to wear my clothes, to imitate me as it were, because it means you want me as a role model, so I must’ve done something right with you."

"You mean that?" I said, brightening up quite a bit.

"I have never meant anything more in my life!"

WOW! I jumped up, grabbed mom in a bear hug and did a mazurka, jig, tarantella, and polka to express the joy I now had. All the gold in New York City couldn’t make me feel happier. I managed to return to my seat, properly sweeping my skirt under me as I sat, and attacked the shrimp, fried rice, bor lor whatever and tea. Why is it when you’re happy everything just tastes so much better?

Trust and respect

Are so much better

Than love by itself.

The last three days seemed to be a roller coaster ride for me: the highs, the lows, coming one after another – when you think you hit a bottom, the next crest takes you up and away into a stratospheric place where you wish you could spend the rest of your life.

Mom sat in thought for a minute before speaking, "Tea, Sandra gave me a call and told me all about what you did. I wondered about it for a while, then decided the experience wasn’t harmful to you. In my curiosity to see for myself how you looked, I decided to leave earlier than usual. On the way home, I got a call on my cell phone from Ms. Mueller about you being her temporary secretary and I heartily approve. The work experience should give you money for your return to school, and you’ll learn a lot about office procedures and politics."

"Gee mom, that’s great! But, I have a problem: should I wear a gray skirt-suit, or a dark blue one?"

"Oh you!" Her laughter was wonderful.

 

To Be Continued—

Annie O

 

 

 

*********************************************
© 2002 by Ann O'Nonymous. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.