Another new bit of my book. I'm writing interludes about my transition as "in between semester" bits. So meta!
Back in the seventies, kids were left alone all the time. “Just be home when the street lights come on” was the common time limit. Still, being left for a weekend at thirteen? That showed trust…
Interlude
II: First dressing
Saturday,
October 6, 1979. Pope Firmly Depends [sic] Church Restriction On Contraception
Wow!
I couldn't believe my parents agreed to
the idea! They and John went to the
house in Delaware that dad was fixing up for the weekend… and I got to stay
behind ALONE. John was on the football
team, but they had an off weekend with no game. As dad also had off that weekend, off they
went.
Interlude
II: First dressing
Saturday,
October 6, 1979. Pope Firmly Depends [sic] Church Restriction On Contraception
Wow!
I couldn't believe my parents agreed to the idea! They and John went to the house in Delaware
that dad was fixing up for the weekend… and I got to stay behind ALONE. John
was on the football team, but they had an off weekend with no game, As dad also
had off that weekend, off they went.
My
jobs were threefold:
One-
deliver papers for John's Evening Phoenix paper route. In addition to my own.
Two-
take care of the dog
Three-
Make sure the house doesn't burn down.
The
third one sounds like a joke, but it wasn't. During the previous summer (1978), there were
a series of arson fires in a house across the street. The fifth killed four
people: Father, mother, and two sons, the youngest of whom was John's age. The
one daughter was convicted of murder.
In
any case, I was ready for this weekend.
Once
the previous spring, while the rest of the family were a way visiting
relatives, I tentatively tried on one of my mom's dresses. By then, I was able to articulate my dark
secret: inside I was a girl. That made
me a freak. I also had to make sure I never, ever, let anyone guess that truth.
Learned that the hard way when I was
four.
In
any case, I tried on one of mom's dresses. It was way too big on me. I felt so guilty. What was I doing? Stupid, STUPID FREAK! She would figure out I did this. How would I explain it? I was going to be caught! Add to that the whole idea of me being in a dress
to begin with… After some guilty and desperate thought, I
figured I would feel less guilty if the clothes I tried were my own.
So,
using the paper route money, I ordered some things from the Sears and JCPenney
catalogs: A dress that should fit my
short, tiny frame, a skirt, blouse, and (Horrors!) a bra! As I was always home from school before anyone
else came home, it was easy to intercept any packages in the mail. Then it was just a matter of waiting for an
opportunity. Hiding the clothes was easy:
my bedroom was in the attic and was also the family storeroom. I hid everything
among the boxes and things. No one ever
found them.
So,
this weekend, I was going to try on this... this… gay freak girly stuff. And I did! I used bunched up tube socks to fill the bra
cups. (Eventually, I’d use water balloons.) The clothes pretty much fit. Lucky me. And what’s with the buttons being
backwards? Anyway, I borrowed a wig that
Mom never wore anymore and looked in the mirror.
Oh
God! I looked TERRIBLE! Like a boy in a
dress! But past the guilt and shame, I
felt… What was this feeling? Years
later, I figured it out.
I
felt Right. At Peace.
Yes,
I looked awkward and ugly, but I felt that I finally was seeing myself. Who I should have been all along.
Over
time, my presentation improved. As the
girls in school were changing- blossoming, I was left behind. But for
these short, blessed times, I could pretend I wasn't. I could be the girl I was inside. I knew eventually I would hit puberty (I was thirteen), and it
would change me into something… I didn't want to be.
I
just had to be very careful in these times. If I were caught... I didn’t even want to think about it.
But
for those fleeting moments, I had peace.
I
never dared dream that the girl in the mirror would someday become a woman.
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