A Christmas to Remember (part one)

It was a week before Christmas. I returned home from school and warmed my freezing hands by the fireplace. “Mum.” I said. “Jonny's Mum said I could go to their house on Boxing Day to play video games.” I excitedly told her. “Can I go?” I asked.

“We'll be at Auntie June's on boxing day.” she told me. “You can visit Jonny after we get back.”

“In the evening?”

“No on the twenty-eighth.” Mum replied. “So maybe the day after that... if it's OK with Jonny's mum.”

“You mean we're going to stay Auntie June's?” I quizzed.

“Yes. From Sunday. I did tell you.” Mum claimed.

“You said we were going over Christmas but I thought that was just for the day.” I replied.

“No love, we're going to stay over Christmas, from the twenty-third to the twenty-eighth.”

“But that's a whole week!”

“Almost, yes.”

“Why?” I asked. “We usually just go for the day.”

“I know but you're dad's working over Christmas and he's got a lot of night shifts, and so has Anna.” Mum told me. “I'm certain I told you.”

“You did but you didn't say we were going for a week!”

“I'm sure I did.” Mum replied. I recalled what Mum had told me about the Christmas arrangements this year and figured that maybe she had told me, but I must've got the wrong end of the stick. When Mum said we were going to her sister's over Christmas, I thought she meant for one day over Christmas like we do every other year. And she didn't mention my Dad would be working a string of night shifts, which isn't unusual since he's a hospital doctor and works long hours both day and night. My big sister Anna is a nurse and will also be working all sorts of unsociable hours over the Xmas period, which means it'll just be me and Mum visiting her sister June and my cousins Peter and Jasmine.

I considered the prospect of a week at my Aunt's house. “It's gonna be weird coz I'll be the only boy.” I grumbled.

“Peter's a boy as well you know!” Mum bluntly told me.

“Yeah but he's...” I retorted before quietening my voice to a mere whisper. “...petticoated.” I gulped.

“He's still a boy despite his clothing.” Mum said. “Which raises the subject of what you're going to wear whilst we're there.” she added.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... I think it'll be best if you also wear girl's clothes. That way you won't feel inclined to tease your cousin.”

“I don't tease him!”

“Not directly... but you do have a habit of sniggering when he enters a room wearing one of his dresses, and smirking when he calls Auntie June 'mummy'.” my mother replied.

“No I don't!” I claimed, knowing that I often do. But when you see a fourteen year old boy wearing a prissy party dress and saying 'thank you Mummy' when Auntie June tells him how nice he looks, it's hard not to snigger.

“We both know you do Stephen.” Mum retorted. “And your sister and I have already had a good rummage through her old things...”

“But I don't want to wear girls clothes!”

“And neither does your cousin. But he has to because he's petticoated.” Mum retorted. “Think yourself lucky it's just for a few days.”

“It'll be a week!” I gulped.

“Six days.” Mum pedantically corrected. “That's nothing compared to the six years your cousin's due to be petticoated for.” she told me.

“I thought it was 'til he was sixteen?” I quizzed. I knew it begun on his thirteenth birthday and understood it would continue until he left school. “...when he's left high school.”

“He'll have two years at finishing school after he's left high school, so he'll be eighteen.” Mum told me.

“Blimey!” I grimaced.

“Six days doesn't sound so bad now does it” Mum said.

“Well... yeah.” I frowned. “What if I promise not to snigger or smirk or anything.” I proposed.

“And if you do?” Mum queried

“I won't!”

“Because each time we've visited them in the last two years you have.” Mum told me. “And no matter how much you try to stifle your smirks, we all hear them and that's not very nice for Peter.”

“But I promise I won't this time Mum.” I pleaded. “You don't have to petticoat me too.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

“Because I can't imagine you sniggering or smirking at your cousin if you're also wearing frilly knickers and a prissy dress.” she told me. “But if you're wearing normal boys clothes, chances are you will.” she said.

“I won't.” I insisted.

“Well I'm not willing to take that chance... and you'll probably feel more at home there if you only have girls clothes to wear.”

“I'll feel like a fish out of water!”

“You said yourself you'd be the only boy.” Mum reminded me. “And it won't be anywhere near as bad as you imagine.”

“It'll be horrible.” I whined. “Does Dad know?”

“Of course.” Mum replied. “In fact your dad suggested it when I said I was worried about you teasing your cousin.”

I gulped. I didn't want to believe this but Mum wasn't in the habit of lying to me. “Do we have to go for the whole week?” I asked.

“Well your Dad and Anna have lots of long night shifts that week which means they'll be sleeping throughout the day and if we're here they won't find that quite so easy. Plus you don't want to spend Christmas trying to be quiet all day. You'll want the telly on.” she said. “And I can't make Christmas dinner without clattering about in the kitchen... so it's best all round if we spend Christmas at Auntie June's.”

“It's not best for me if I have to dress like a girl the whole time.” I frowned.

“When in Rome.” Mum chirped.

I knew the saying but for the sake of expressing my contempt I grumbled, “What does that even mean?”

“When in Rome we do as the Roman's do.” Mum replied. “We follow the customs of wherever it is we're visiting.”

“But Peter doesn't get to wear boy's clothes when they come here.”

“They've only visit once since he was petticoated, and you teased him relentlessly.” Mum reminded me.

“I wouldn't have if he'd worn boy's clothes.” I replied, knowing my argument was weak.

“He wasn't even wearing a dress that day. He was wearing shorts.” Mum retorted.

“With white knee socks and girlie shoes.” I countered. “...and a girl's T-shirt with puffy sleeves.”

“See... you're still sneering at him and he's not even here Stephen.” Mum responded.

“Sorry... but...”

“But what?”

“Nothing.” I muttered.

The next day at school, Jonny asked me if I'd asked my Mum about going over to his house on Boxing Day. Glumly I told him that I had asked, and even more glumly I told him that we're spending Christmas at my Auntie June's house because my Dad and sister are working night shifts that week. “I can't believe it!” I grumbled. “A whole week at my Auntie June's house. It's gonna be so boring.”

“Is she the one who petticoated your cousin?” Jonny asked. I nodded and sighed, but said nothing of what my mother has in mind for me whilst we're there. Jonny asked why he'd been petticoated, presuming it was for bad behaviour or something.

“I don't think he was that bad... but she got divorced a few years ago and his dad hasn't had much to do with them since, and according my mum, petticoating him was for the best because he no longer had a father figure.” I explained from the best of my recollection.

“That's grim. It kinda makes sense if they've gone off the rails but not because their parents split up.” Jonny said. “What's he like?”

“He's OK I guess.” I replied. “Quiet.” I added, before describing him as being in a state of perpetual embarrassment because his mum's always telling him how lovely he looks and he has to call her 'mummy' despite being fourteen years old.

“Blimey I thought he was like... eleven or something?”

“Nah... but some of his dresses are like a seven year old would wear.”

“Yeah... my Mum was telling me that it revolves around infantilisation as much as it does treating them like girls.”

“Infanti-what?” I quizzed.

“Infantilisation... treating them like little kids.”

“How come your Mum was talking to you about petticoating?”

“Oh one of her old friends had to send her son to a boarding school where they're all petticoated.”

“What did he do?”

“Stole a car.” Jonny told me. “I don't think he was doing the actual driving but he was in the car when police stopped 'em.” he said, adding that the car had crashed at the end of a high speed chase.

“What an idiot! He could have been killed.” I exclaimed. “How old is he?”

“Our age.” Jonny said, adding that his mother had likely told him all the details as a warning not to get in any trouble with the Law. “She showed me some pictures of him.” he added, describing the uniform as a green skirt, white shirt, burgundy blazer and burgundy tights.

“Eugh!” I responded, trying to visualise the outfit.

“And apparently that's all they wear!” Jonny said just as three girls strolled past wearing only knee socks with their short pleated skirts. “Evenings and weekends!” he added.

“Imagine having nothing to wear but a girls' school uniform” I said, wondering how cold those girls must me with half their lap and knees uncovered

“What you looking at?!” one of the girls snarled.

“Nothing.” we sheepishly replied in unison. “How do they cope without tights?” Jonny asked once they were out of sight.

“Dunno.” I gulped. A vision popped into my head of my cousin Peter last Christmas when we went to visit for the day. He wore a bottle green dress with a pair of white ribbed tights. I remember my mum saying how nice and cosy his tights looked and Peter sheepishly replying that he'd got them for Christmas off his sister. “Sorry what?” I said, hearing Jonny repeat a question.

“You going deaf?” he said, before asking a third time when I'd be back from my aunt's.

“Oh err.... the twenty-eighth.” I replied. “Mum said I could come over the day after that... if it's OK with your Mum.”

“I'll ask.” Jonny replied. “So when do you go?”

“Sunday.” I said.

“That's gonna be weird. A whole week in house where the only other boy has to dress like a girl.”

“It's only six days, but yeah.” I glumly replied, gulping. My dishonesty for not confessing to my friend that Peter wouldn't be the only boy having to dress like a girl left me feeling riddled with guilt, but there's no way I could confess such a thing to anyone. When I got home after school, Mum asked if I'd told Jonny that we'd still be at Auntie June's on boxing day. “Yeah.” I mournfully told her. “He's gonna ask his Mum about me going on the Saturday instead.”

“You can't go this Saturday.” Mum retorted.

“No I mean the Saturday after we get back.” I replied.

“Oh yes. Of course.” Mum said.

“What are we doing this Saturday?” I quizzed.

“We need to go shopping for some shoes and stuff.”

“You don't have to take me with you!” I blurted.

“You'll need to try the shoes on. I can't just take your foot.” Mum sarcastically replied. “Plus you need a training bra which means taking you for a proper fitting.” she informed me.

“What do I want a bra for?!”

“It's just a training bra. Peter has to wear one and so shall you.”

"What's a proper fitting?" I grimly asked.

"It's a right of passage." Mum said, somewhat smugly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you'll be measured and fitted with your first training bra and shown how to adjust the straps properly."

"But why?"

"So it'll be comfortable. You'll be wearing one everyday we're away."

“This is gonna be the worst Christmas ever!” I huffed.

“Oh get over yourself Stephen! It's not all about you.” Mum told me.

“Well it certainly feels like it because I’m the one who has to dress like a girl!” I growled.

“Did you tell Jonny that you'd be wearing dresses whilst you're away?”

“No!” I snarled. “Why would I tell him that?”

“Because you're making such a big deal over it I thought you might have had a good old moan about it to your friends.”

“It's the last thing I want them to know.” I stated. “And it is a big deal!”

“I know it is love.” Mum said, resting her hands on my shoulders. “It's also a big deal for your cousin and the last thing he needs is you scoffing and mocking him.”

“But I won't.” I whined. “I promise.” I insisted.

“I know.” Mum said.

Being a hospital doctor, my dad regularly works thirteen hour shifts. It's similar for my big sister Anna who's a nurse at the same hospital so several days can go by without me seeing either of them. Currently Dad's on the day shift and he returned home at around 8.30pm whilst I was playing on my games console. “How you getting on son?” he asked, popping his head around my bedroom door.

“OK.” I mournfully replied. “Why didn't you tell me I had to wear girls clothes when we go to Auntie June's?” I whined.

“Your mum told you.”

“Yeah but she said it was your idea.”

“Well it was a joint decision. And it won't be so bad.” he said.

“It'll be awful!” I complained.

“It'll be what you make it.” Dad replied, perplexing me somewhat. “I've never told you this before son but when I was about your age I was given my first dress and...”

“You had a dress?!” I remarked.

Dad nodded and sighed. “I didn't want one but my grandmother used to say that every boy needs a Sunday dress and when I was about eleven or twelve she took me shopping for one.”

“Were you petticoated?”

“No.” he said. “Not like Peter is but whenever my grandmother wanted me to be on my best behaviour, I had to wear one of my dresses.” he confessed.

“How many did you have?”

“Oh I don't know... two or three to begin with, then when I began growing out of one I'd be given another so maybe fifteen or twenty all in all.”

“Did anyone know?”

“Not apart from the immediate family and friends and neighbours of my Granny. And it was the same for my brother.” he told me.

“Uncle Andrew?”

Dad nodded. “The point is Stephen... it's not just you, and it's only for a few days.”

“It's nearly a week Dad. And it's Christmas.” I frowned. “And I promise I won't tease Peter.”

“Of course you won't. Especially if you're also wearing a dress.” he told me.

I sighed and considered what my father had told me. “What did you mean when you said; it is what I make it?”

“Well... every now and then we'd have to spend the weekend with Granny and more often than not she'd tell us to put a dress on and if we kicked up a fuss, she'd make us wear one she knew we hated.”

“Didn't you hate them all?”

“Of course but some were far worse than others.” he replied, pausing for a moment. “However if we did as we were told... we'd be able to choose one that wasn't quite so bad.” he said. “And considering this was the early eighties, most styles were really bad.” he told me, adding that it didn't happen that often and stopped by the time he was about fifteen.

“Did you have to wear knickers too?” I asked. Dad nodded and said they had to wear 'the works'. I gulped, knowing that 'the works' meant everything. “I'm not gonna get loads of girlie presents am I? Like Peter does.” I grimaced.

“There'll be a few.” Dad told me. “But only to wear whilst you're there.” he added. “You'll have plenty of boy things too.” he assured.

“Hmmm.” I groaned. We shared a moment of silence. My father's confession didn't exactly make me feel any better about the prospect of having to wear girl's clothes whilst we're at my aunt's, but considering what Jonny had told me at school, coupled with my Dad's disclosure... it could be a whole lot worse. “So there's no getting out of it?” I sighed.

“I'm afraid not son.” Dad replied, forcing a reassuring smile. “And if it's any consolation, no one else need know.” he told me.

I spent the last two days of the school term pretending that I was really looking forward to Christmas. My form teacher went around the class asking each of us what we were doing on Christmas Day and in a show of faux enthusiasm, I told him that we were spending the week with my aunt in Donington. He presumed I meant Castle Donington near the airport and said he used to go plane spotting there when he was younger. I corrected him and said it was the village of Donington in Lincolnshire. “Oh! Nice.” he replied, adding that it'd be cold if the east wind blows, before asking the next pupil what they'd be doing.

It seemed to make more sense to not let on to the rest of the class that I was dreading the trip because they'd only want to know why, although Jonny did question my change of heart. I told him that I was looking forward to it, but reiterated that it's just gonna be weird because my cousin is a petticoatee, before asking him not to tell any one. “Nah course I won't.” he said, before telling me that I couldn't visit him on the twenty-ninth because he'll be visiting his extended family that weekend, but could call round early in the new year since the new term doesn't start until the seventh of January.

“Cool.” I said. “Only downside is you'll have had a week to get good at all your new video games.”

“Do your cousins have a console?” he asked. They did, I told him, adding that they've got a PS2 and a Wii but aren't allowed to play any shooting or fighting games because my aunt is quite strict about that sort of thing. “My mum doesn't want me playing any road racing games after what happened to that boy I told you about... she reckons playing Burnout and Need for Speed led to his friends going joy riding.” Jonny told me.

“That's ridiculous... she may as well say Lego Star Wars promotes gun crime, and that's age three plus!” I retorted.

“I know!” Jonny concurred.

We parted company wishing each other a happy Christmas and I continued home alone, worrying what the next few days would bring. Mum's already told me that she's taking me shopping tomorrow and I know it's gonna be girl things I'll be getting, and the day after that we'll be driving over to Donington, or more specifically Northorpe, a small hamlet close to the village. “How was school love?” Mum asked when I returned home.

“OK.” I told her. As usual she asked if I had any homework and I informed her that it was the last day of term and therefore I didn't have any homework.

“Course. Silly me.” Mum said. “Soo no more school for two weeks!” she enthused.

“And nothing but girl's clothes next week.” I grumpily retorted.

“It won't be as bad as you imagine.” Mum claimed. “Dad said he'd spoken to you about it.”

“Yeah.” I mournfully replied. “I can't believe he had to wear dresses too.”

“Well it is quite common... it's just not talked about very often.” Mum replied. “What are you most worried about?”

“I don't know. Everything.” I said. “What if someone from school sees me trying on girl's shoes tomorrow?”

“Well I thought about that and figured if we drove over to Derby...”

“Someone might see me there too!” I whined.

“If anything people drive from Derby to Nottingham to go shopping. Not the other way round.” Mum said. “The chances of anyone seeing you are next to none, and it's not like I’m going to take you to Primark. It'll be a proper shoe shop. A small one. There probably won't be anyone else in there.”

“Hmm.” I mused. “They won't have heels will they?”

“Only little ones.” Mum smiled. I gulped.

“Hey Steve!” my sister said as she entered the room.

“Hiya.” I sheepishly replied. “You off to work?” I presumed since she wore her navy blue nursing dress and thick black tights.

“Yeah.” she smiled. “You looking forward to going to Auntie June's?” she chirped.

“Not really.” I muttered.

“It'll be fine.” she told me. “Mum and I have already found you a few of my old things... and none of it's too girlie.” she claimed.

“If it's just dresses then they're already too girlie.” I glumly retorted.

“Yeah but... you'd prefer a plain dungaree dress to something flowery.” Anna replied.

“Yeah I guess.” I replied. “But I'd prefer jeans.”

“You've got some corduroy jeans.” Anna said. “They are a dusty pink colour but it's not just dresses.”

“Lucky me.” I moaned.

“Well if you don't want to wear them you don't have to.” Mum said. “There's some nice shorts too.”

“In December?!”

“With warm woolly tights.”

“Great.” I groaned.

“Stephen.” Mum said in her serious tone. “We've put an effort in to choose you a few boyish things to wear. If you don't like them then it's just skirts and dresses.”

“But I'll have to wear those anyway.”

“We're going for six days and you've got eight outfits which includes one pair of jeans and one pair of dungarees...”

“Isn't there only five?” my sister quizzed.

“From your wardrobe.” Mum said. “I've got him a few things of his own.” she added. Turning to me, my mother said I'd be unwrapping those on Christmas morning so my cousin wouldn't be the only boy getting girlie gifts. “...and I'd appreciate it if you at least pretended to be thankful. They're just to wear whilst we're away then everything can go back to normal.” she told me.

Being previously forewarned by my father about my girlie gifts, this didn't come as a surprise to me. My sister however did seem surprised. “He'll be getting some proper presents too though?” Anna asked.

“Of course he will.” Mum assured. “I'm not trying to ruin Christmas for you Stephen, I'm just trying to ensure it's pleasant for everyone, particularly Peter.”

“Surely it'd be better if he wasn't petticoated whilst we're there.” I suggested. “Then he could be a normal boy for the week instead me having to be a girl.”

“Petticoated boys aren't girls.”

“I know but you know what I mean.”

“I do... and I'm sorry but it's not going to happen.” Mum told me. “Anyway I've already bought you a couple of frocks and a nice skirt and blouse, plus various other bits and bobs. If you don't wear them whilst we're away you'll only have to wear them here.”

“I don't want to dress like a girl here!”

“Then you'll have to wear them there.” my mother smugly retorted.

My sister soon departed for work and a couple of hours later, my dad returned home from his long day shift. It's not often we all sit down to eat a meal together and it being Friday, he brought a fish & chip supper home with him. You can't beat a chippy tea sat on the sofa in front of the TV and for a while I'd completely forgotten what was in store for me until Mum casually told Dad that we were going shopping to Derby the following morning. “Why Derby?” Dad quizzed.

“Because Stephen needs some footwear and he's worried that he might be seen by one of his classmates if we go shoe shopping here.” Mum replied. “Plus there's a shop in Ilkeston where I'll take him to get fitted for a training bra, and it's on the way.” she added.

I felt myself blush as my dad cast his empathetic eyes over me. “Be brave son. It was the same for me when my grandmother took me shopping for my first dress.” he said.

“And at least I'm not taking you dress shopping.” Mum told me. “You've got everything you need in that department.”

“That's one consolation I suppose.” I muttered.

Dad had already left for work when I got up the next morning. I honestly don't know how he does it. I find my 9am to 3pm school day long and arduous but Dad works from 7am until 8pm. No wonder he's always tired. Mum and I set off for Derby soon after breakfast and arrived at around 9.30am. “I thought you said we weren't going Primark!” I said as we walked toward the discount clothing store.

“Not for your shoes but you need some nightwear and they've got a good selection of cheap socks and tights.” Mum replied. “Don't worry... no one will know they're for you.” she assured.

I have been shopping with Mum before when she's picked up clothes for my sister and it didn't bother me then, so I guess she's got a point. It's just knowing she's shopping for girlie stuff for me that makes a big difference. “Ooh these look nice and warm.” she said, looking at a pack of thick white tights.

My cousin often wears white tights and they seem so very girlie. “I'd prefer black ones.” I quietly suggested.

“Black would be nice with the dungaree shorts Anna gave you.” Mum replied. “But white are nice too.” she added. “As are these cream ones.” We strolled along the selection and I felt so very self conscious being a boy in the girl's department. But I wasn't the only one. Another boy about my age was with his mother trying to choose a gift for (I presume) his sister. Our eyes briefly met and quickly parted. “Oh these are pretty.” Mum said.

“Mum they're horrid!” I quietly grimaced as she lifted a pair of white lace knee socks from the rack with frilly lace around the cuffs. “You're not gonna buy me them are you?” I discreetly protested.

“Just pretend they're for your sister.” she softly suggested. “Unless you want to cause a scene and everyone will know they're for you.” she added in an equally hushed tone.

“OK.” I gulped. I soon found myself in the nightwear aisle where Mum chose me a pack of three nighties and three pyjama sets. The nighties came in lilac, pink and pale blue and the pyjamas were blue, pink and white. “I don't want any pink ones.” I quietly gulped.

“I know you don't but two out of six isn't so bad.” Mum said. “And all the others are either Barbie, ballerinas, unicorns or princesses.”

I cast my eyes over the options and seeing those, plus Peppa Pig, Dora the Explorer and other unsavoury options, Mum had chosen the best of a bad bunch for me. Eventually we joined the queue for the tills and Mum had in her basket three packs of tights, a pair of lacy knee socks, a pack of three nighties and three pairs of girl's pyjamas. “Oh those look nice!” she said, seeing a pair of fleece ballerina style slippers with bows on the toes. She gave me a look as she dropped them in the basket. I gulped and said nothing, not wanting to cause a scene. We must've queued for fifteen minutes before finally getting to a till. The busy assistant didn't even look at at me as she quickly scanned each item and placed them in a bag. “That wasn't so bad was it.” Mum said as we left the busy store.

“That's easy for you to say. You're not a boy being bought loads of girlie stuff.” I grumpily replied.

“Think yourself lucky I didn't buy you a dress... because you'd have had to try it on first.”

There is that. I thought. Next we browsed lots of shoe shop windows in which Mum pointed out the styles she was looking for; some black Mary Jane's because they go with any dress and some rugged winter boots to wear outdoors. “Those look nice and warm.” she said, pointing out some brown suede ankle boots with a fleecy lining and a rugged sole. They looked like boys boots, apart from the chunky heel which I reckoned I'd never be able to walk in. “You'd be fine.” Mum insisted. “They're only a couple of inches high.” she said. “But at sixty-five pounds, its way more than I want to spend.”

Three shoe shops later and I found myself following my mother inside after looking at the window display. They had a similar pair of boots for less than half the price and after having my feet measured, I tried a pair on. The lady didn't seem at all bothered that I was a boy trying on a pair of girls boots, although she did warn me to be careful if I’ve not worn a heel before. The boots fit and did feel cosy but the two inch heels felt awkward and unwieldy. “You're doing well considering.” the lady said as I tottered in front of a low slanted mirror.

“Very well.” Mum concurred. “See... I told you heels were nothing to worry about.” she told me. “Can we try him in some of these next?” she said, holding a shiny black shoe with a single strap and a silver buckle.

“Pageboy shoes. Very nice.” the assistant smiled.

“I thought they were called Mary Jane's.” I said.

“These days we call them Mary Jane's when they're for a girl and Pageboy shoes when they're for a boy.” the assistant told me.

Despite having laces, the ankle boots have a zip on the side and came off in no time. The assistant takes the patent leather 'pageboy' shoe from my mother, but isn't sure if they have that style in my size. “Do you like these?” Mum asked as she sat beside me and picked one if the boots up.

“They're OK I suppose.” I mournfully replied. “For girls shoes.” I added. “I don't like the other ones though.”

“Well at least they are boys shoes.” Mum replied. “What don't you like about them?”

“They're too shiny and they're too girlie.”

“Auntie June says there's no such thing as 'too girlie' when it comes to dressing a boy.” Mum told me. “Oh... here she is.” she said, looking up toward the approaching shop assistant.

“I'm sorry... we don't have them in a size five or six, but we do have these which are very similar.” the assistant said as she opened one of three shoes boxes she'd fetched.

“They look better.” I said, seeing that they're normal black leather and not super shiny like the others. But on closer inspection the buckles are shaped like a love heart and once removed, they have a T-strap instead of a simple single strap. “What are the others like?” I asked.

“Same just in different sizes.” the assistant replied. “Will he be wearing them with tights?” she asked my mother.

Mum nodded. “Or knee socks.” she said.

“Right well you'll need to try them with thinner socks.” the assistant said to me as she knelt at my feet. She revealed a pair of thin white ankle socks. I gulped because they're just the sort the girls wear at school; knitted with a pattern of stripes and diamonds. “Put these on.” she said, handing them to me. I pulled off my winter socks hesitantly pulled on the girlie socks. The assistant unbuckled each shoe and removed the lump of tissue from each toe. “So when's the big day?” she asked as she placed the first shoe on my foot.

“Big day?” Mum quizzed.

“You're going to be a pageboy aren't you?” the assistant assumed as she fastened the buckle for me.

“No I err...” I bashfully replied, looking up at my mother.

“They're to wear with his Sunday dress.” Mum told her.

“Oh how nice.” the assistant smiled as she fastened the other shoe. “Now be careful when you stand. These heels aren't quite as chunky as the others.” she advised.

I could scarcely believe how girlie my feet looked in a pair of white pelerine socks and black T-strap shoes. Both the assistant and my mother said they were a perfect fit, before asking me if they felt OK. “They're a bit wobbly.” I said as I took a few steps this way and that.

“Only because you're not used to heels.” Mum replied.

“You just need practice.” the assistant said, before asking Mum if she wanted both pairs of shoes. Mum said she did and asked if I could wear the ankle boots now. “Of course.” the assistant replied.

“But... I don't want to wear them now.” I timidly told them. “I'm not used to heels.”

“You will be after half an hour.” Mum said. “All you need is a little bit of practice.”

“Your Mum's right.” the lady said as I sat myself down. As she unbuckled my shoes, she told me that the socks were complimentary and Mum said that I may as well keep them on as she put my trainers and woolly socks in the box the boots came in. I pushed my pelerine feet into my new ankle boots and pulled up the zips.

The lady had repacked my pageboy shoes and she and Mum waited for me to stand before we headed to the counter. The total came to sixty-three pounds and ninety-nine pence and as we left the shoe shop, I said to my mother that she's spending an awful lot of money for just one week. “Needs must.” was my mother's reply. “Right... where next?” she mused.

“I don't know.” I murmured. “I only need a bra now don't I?”

“It's a training bra Stephen.” she stated. “That's quite different to a proper one.” she told me. “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“Not really.” I said. “Home?”

“How about we have a stroll around the shopping centre because it'll be nice and warm in there, grab a steak slice from Greggs then head back to the car?”

“OK.” I said. We only walked for ten minutes before the big shopping centre came into view, but wearing shoes I wasn't used to I felt like I'd walked much further. I told mum that they were hard to walk in but she said I was doing well and should stick at it. We were hit with a blast of very warm air as we entered the shopping centre, which was a huge contrast with the icy air outside. The halls are decked with lavish decorations and Christmas carols play quietly over the Tannoy. It's busy. Very busy and without even thinking I take hold of my mother's hand. She asked if I was OK. “Yeah. I just don't want to get separated from you.” I replied. From my other hand hung the Primark bag in which is nothing but girls clothes and if I did get lost and had to get help from one of the officials, they no doubt look in my bag and wonder why a boy who's wearing girls shoes has nothing but girls tights and nightwear, so I stuck as close as I could to my mother.

All the shops in the centre are the very same chains we have in Nottingham so Mum didn't feel any need to browse beyond the shop windows. British Home Stores has in one of its many broad windows a display of eight or ten child mannequins. Boys in jeans and winter jackets and girls wearing festive outfits; red and green velvet frocks or tartan dresses with white trim and warm woolly tights. “I know you'll say they're horrible but I do love those Christmas dresses.” she said.

“I'm not getting one for Christmas am I?” I feared.

“I'm saying nothing. I don't want to spoil the surprise.”

“I am aren't I.” I huffed.

“Well like I said yesterday, it wouldn't be fair on Peter if he was the only boy getting lots of girl things.” Mum replied. “But I think it's only fair to forewarn you.” she added, squeezing my hand.

“It's gonna be so embarrassing.” I grumbled. “What am I gonna tell my friends when they ask what I got for Christmas?” I mused. “Oh, a tartan dress and some sparkly tights. What did you get?” I mimicked.

“It's not a tartan one.” Mum replied. “And you don't have to tell them.”

“I know... it's just gonna be weird when they ask.”

“Well if nothing else it'll be a Christmas to remember.”

“You can say that again.”

We called into Greggs and got a couple of steak slices then headed back to the car park. We ate whilst the car warmed up and before setting off, Mum told me she was very proud of me. “What for?” I asked.

“For taking this in your stride.” she said. “You could have kicked up a fuss when I bought you those tights and lacy socks, but you didn't.”

“I was too mortified. Especially when you dropped those socks in the basket. I won't have to wear them will I?”

“Of course you will.” she said. “I wouldn't have bought them otherwise, and I know exactly which dress you'll wear them with.”

“What's it like?” I grumbled in my most apathetic tone.

“It's blue, and it's very pretty, and I know you'll hate it... but every dress you wear after that won't seem so bad.” she said, adding that I'll be wearing it tomorrow.

“When we get there?” I feared.

“Before we set off.” she told me.

“Oh no Mum!” I whined. “At least let me dress like a boy for the journey and I'll dress like a girl once we're there.”

“I think it'll be best if you don't take any boy's clothes.” Mum replied. “Otherwise you'll only be wanting to wear them instead of your girl clothes.”

I gulped and almost promised that I wouldn't, but knowing just how empty such a promise would be, I thought better of it. “But what if one of the neighbours sees me getting in the car?” I supposed.

“They'd have to be stood halfway up the drive.” Mum replied.

“They might just be passing by.” I said.

“I'll make sure the coast is clear.”

“But what about when we're driving down the road?”

“I'll drive really fast.” Mum jovially told me.

“What of we have a crash?” I imagined. Mum just chuckled and told me that I have a vivid imagination before starting the engine.

The drive to Ilkeston takes around twenty minutes and Mum pulls up outside an old industrial warehouse that not in the town centre. Above the door is a sign saying Intimate Undergarments Ltd and on the door is another sign stating 'by appointment only'.

Mum pulls out her phone and scrolls through her contact list before putting to her ear. “Hello... is that Barbara? It's April Johnson, I have an appointment for my son Stephen... yes... we're outside now. OK... see you in a tick!” Mum unbuckled her seatbelt and I did the same. Just as I got out of the car, the door opened and an attractive young woman appeared and introduced herself as Barbara. “Am I OK parked there.” Mum asked.

“Yes you'll be fine.” Barbara smiled. “You must be Stephen?” she said to me.

“Yeah.” I shyly said as she held the door open. We stepped inside and she led us up a staircase to room full of partial mannequins displaying bras, panties, suspender belts, corsets, teddies and shapewear in all sorts of styles and colours. It's chilly and she apologises for that. “These old warehouses don't have the best insulation.” Barbara told us. “But the fitting room is nice and warm.” she said, opening the door to a smaller back room. “Have you had a bra fitting before?” she asked me.

“Erm... no.” I sheepishly said.

“Well its nothing to worry about. Just take your top off and I'll measure your chest and shoulder arch.” she told me. I gulped and glanced at my Mum. She smiled and nodded and I removed my jacket, jumper and T-shirt, although not with much haste.

Meanwhile, the lady handed my mum a clothing catalogue to browse through whilst I'm having my fitting. “We keep most styles, colours and sizes in stock and embroidery is free if you buy three or more panty and vest sets.” she said as Mum leafed through the pages.

“Wonderful.” Mum said. “We're looking at six sets so I'll certainly take you up on that.”

Barbara returned her attention to me and slung an elastic band around my chest which had a Velcro fastening and adjusted its height, making sure it was straight all the way around. Then she slung a tape measure around that and noted the measurement. Next she measured the arch of my shoulder from front to back and noted that down before finally taking my waist measurement.

“Is that it?” I asked as she removed the band around my chest.

“Not quite.” Barbara said. “That's just your measurements. When your Mum's chosen some styles we'll get you one fitted.” she told me. I gulped. “How you getting on?” Barbara asked my mother.

“They're all so lovely.” Mum replied. “Do you want to see?” she asked me.

“Not really.” I murmured as I joined her.

“I get the feeling you're not keen on having a training bra?” Barbara said.

I shook my head and looked at the page Mum had open which featured six different styles on each page. I felt sorry for the boy who had to model the bras, although his face wasn't in shot; just his chest and shoulders. “That's not so bad.” I said, pointing to the plainest style.

“I like these.” Mum replied, pointing to another.

“They're too lacy!”

“Well you'll be getting quite a few so you can have some plain ones and at least a couple of pretty ones.” Mum told me as she turned the page to reveal a page full of boy's knickers. I feigned a vomit as I saw the high waisted garments with lace trim and varying amounts of frill. There's white and pink and blue and lilac and various colour combinations. Once again I sought out the plainest style and Mum pointed out some really pretty ones. On the opposite page are the matching vests which like the knickers come in various styles and colours ranging from fairly bad to absolutely horrible.

“Which do you like?” Barbara asked.

“None of them.” I said.

“I was asking your mother.” Barbara replied with a chuckle. Mum chuckled too.

She leafed back to the previous page and tapped on the bra that I said wasn't so bad. “Well we'll get him a pack of plain ones.” Mum said.

“Academette.” Barbara said, that being the name of the style.

“Yes.” Mum said. “With the pastel trim.” she added as she leafed forward a page. “And the same knickers and vests.” she said, naming the style 'academette' for clarity. “Also with pastel trim.”

“And do you want the vests embroidered on the chest or hip?”

“Erm... hip I think.”

“Embroidered with what?” I asked.

“Your name.” Mum said. I didn't want my name embroidered on such an obvious girlie vest but I knew my mother had made her mind up and having overheard that the embroidery service is free, I knew she'd already made her mind up. “Can I have a minute to choose him some nicer ones?” Mum asked Barbara.

“Of course.” Barbara said. “I'll get him fitted whilst you're making your mind up.”

Barbara began rummaging through the innumerable sets of shelving that flanked the fitting room which left me at a momentary loose end. Mum resumed browsing the range of boys knickers and training bras and sheepishly I requested that she doesn't choose me any girlie ones. “Boy's knickers that aren't girlie are called underpants... and you've got loads of those.” she replied. “The academette range isn't too girlie but they're not necessarily pretty either. You'll be wearing a really pretty dress tomorrow so you need something equally pretty to wear under it, and you've got another pretty outfit too so you need something really nice to wear with that.” she explained.

“Can I borrow you please Stephen?” Barbara asked as she fetched a small bundle of cellophane wrapped items. She placed them on a table and separated the three packs. Boys Academette Panties, stated the label on one. Boys Academette Vests said the next, and finally Boys Academette Training Bras on the third, All the garment within are white but the narrow lacy trim is in various pastel colours, being blue, lilac, green and pink. She opened the pack of bras and removed the one with pale blue trim and a small blue bow stitched between the 'cups'. “I'll just get it fitted.” she said, unfastening it. “Then I'll show you how to fasten it yourself.” she added. “Arms please.” she smiled, holding it from its shoulder straps.

Timidly I raised my arms and she slid it on, stepped behind me and fastened it. Barbara drew my attention to the adjustable straps which have a slider on the front which means I can adjust it myself and demonstrated how. Then she drew my attention to a mirror which I hadn't previously noticed and my jaw dropped seeing myself wearing a bra. “Now you need to make sure the chest band is straight all the way around and not to high or low on your torso before adjusting the straps.” She explained. “If you find the straps drop off your shoulders, they'll need shortening... but you don't want them digging either.” she told me. “If that happens then make them a little longer until it's comfortable.”

“OK.” I meekly said, feeling more than a little mortified. I glanced at my mother who smiled as she watched.

I gulped as Barbara unfastened my bra, and proceeded to show me how to fasten it myself. “Now there's one pair of hooks and three pairs of loops and you want to use the first set of loops only.” she told me. “Over time it'll stretch which is when you'll start using the second set of loops.” she added, before showing me how to hold each side of the clasp, and how to reach behind my back to fasten them. “That's perfect.” Barbara said, before prompting me to unfasten it the same way, and fasten it again. “Excellent.” she smiled. “You can put you T-shirt on now.” she told me, handing it to me.

“Do I have to keep it on?” I gulped. Barbara smiled and nodded.

“You may as well love.” Mum said as she stood. “It'll get you used to wearing it.” she told me. “Can he also have this one in blue, and this one in peach... both with the matching knickers.” she said to Barbara.

“Oh those are lovely.” Barbara said, looking at the catalogue and stating the styles; Lulabelle and Sophia.

I pulled on my T-shirt and Barbara returned to the numerous shelves. Mum smiled at me and I could sense her pride whilst all I felt was a deep sense of humility. The undergarments Barbara fetched hung from a plastic hanger that held both the knickers and training bra. “Oh not pink!” I grimaced.

“It's peach.” Mum told me as Barbara laid them on the table. The fact one set looked pink wasn't what was really wrong with these sets of underwear... it was all the frilly lace! The pale blue set has ruffled white lace around the leg holes and waist, plus white lace trim around the bra. and the peach set has a white lacy panel covering most of the front of the knickers and more covering the cups!

“It looks like pink to me.” I moaned.

“I'll show you the pink set if you like.” Barbara said to me. “This is definitely peach.” she said. I decided to take their word for it. Knowing my luck, Mum would only choose the proper pink set if they were put side by side and whilst peach does look like pink to me, there are worse shades of pink. “Right.. just to double check, it's Stephen with a PH and not a V?” Barbara asked.

“Yes.” Mum said.

“You may as well both take a seat.” Barbara said. “I'll be about twenty minutes with these.” she told us.

Mum and I sat on the sofa. She handed me the underwear catalogue and asked if I wanted to have a look. I shook my head. Barbara sat at a sewing machine in the corner. “I can't believe I'm wearing girls shoes and a bra.” I grumbled.

“It's just a training bra.” Mum told me. “Made especially for boys.” she added. “You'll get used to it in no time... and then you won't have to wear them again.”

“Until the next time we visit Auntie June.” I glumly retorted as the noisy sound of the sewing machine filled the room.

BRUGGADUGGADUGGA … BRUGGADUGGADERRRR … BRUGGADUGGADUGGA ... BRUGGADUGGERRR … BRUGGADUGGADUGGA … BRUGGADUGGADUGGA … BRUGGADUGGADERRRR ... BRUGGADUGGERRR

The sound stopped and Barbara stood. “I'll show you the first one.” she said, holding up one of the Academette vests with my name embroidered on the lower left corner in ornate italics. Mum said it was perfect whilst all I could do was gulp, although I might have nodded slightly too. Barbara sat and the repetitive yet irregular sound of the machine resumed. On and on it went until eventually it stopped. “Right that's everything.” Barbara chirped, showing us my embroidered undergarments.

“It's on my knickers too!” I gasped, seeing my name embroidered on the front-left of every item apart from my bras.

“So you don't get yours mixed up with Peters.” my mother told me as Barbara placed my undergarments in a large boxy paper bag. “What's the damage.” Mum said as she approached holding her debit card. Barbara totted up the bill on a calculator and turned it toward my mother. “Perfect.” Mum said and promptly paid. Barbara escorted us down the the front door and pleasantly bid us farewell. I gulped and meekly said thanks and bye before heading to Mum's car. “That wasn't so bad was it?” Mum said as I fastened my seat belt.

“It was horrific.” I whined. “I can't believe you got my name put on all my knickers.” I said. “In fact I can't believe I’m saying 'my' knickers.”

Mum just smiled and started the engine. “I'll leave it up to you if you want to show them to Dad or not.” she said as she released the handbrake. “It's your underwear and it's no one else's business.” she added.

“How much did it all cost?”

“Nether you mind.” Mum replied. “It's a gift so you shouldn't be asking.”

“Some gift.” I silently said to no one but myself.

The drive back to Nottingham should have taken no more than fifteen minutes but we got stick in the cross town traffic and it looked like we'd never get through the city centre. As we sat in standing traffic, Mum suggested wrapping up the pyjamas and some of the tights she'd bought me so I could unwrap them on Christmas morning. “Why?” I replied. “I've already seen them.”

“I know but you can pretend you haven't.” Mum said. “And I presume you'd rather unwrap a pack of PJs than a pack of nighties.”

“But then I’d have to wear a nightie on Sunday night and Christmas eve.”

“True.” Mum replied. “Would you rather unwrap your nighties on Christmas day?”

“Not really.” I figured. “Can I take my bra off when we get home?” I asked.

“Only if you want to try a different one on.” Mum replied.

“There's no point taking it off if have to put a different one on.”

Mum turned and smiled at me. “Exactly.” she said.

“Why do they even make bras for boys anyway?” I mused.

“Training bras.” Mum corrected. “It's the same reason they make knickers for boys.”

“And why's that?”

“To wear when they wear girlie clothes.” she told me. “Flowerboys and pageboys both wear training bras and frilly knickers, and boys can be bridesmaids too nowadays.”

“Really?” I quizzed. Mum nodded. “Pageboys don't even wear dresses.”

“No but they do wear very girlie outfits these days.” she replied. “Then there's boys like Peter who've been petticoated, and all the boys who go to mixed girls' schools.” she added.

“What's a mixed girls' school?”

“It a girls' school that allows boys to enrol, but the boy have to wear the same uniform as the girls.” she explained. “I think your plain knickers and training bras are for those schoolboys.”

“How come?”

“Academy means school and those undies are called Academette.”

“No I mean... how come the boys have to wear the girls uniform?” I replied.

“Because it's a girls' school.”

“And did they get expelled from a normal school or something?”

“Not necessarily... but I guess that has happened. Why?”

“Well... Jonny was telling me that someone his mum knows had to send her son to a boarding school where all the boys are petticoated after stealing a car.”

“Oh.” mum replied. “Did you tell Jonny that you were going to be petticoated whilst we're at Auntie June's?”

“No way!” I exclaimed. “But I told him ages ago that I have a petticoated cousin and Jonny figured that Peter must've got in trouble for something.” I explained. “I told him it was just coz his dad left.”

“Oh I see.” Mum replied.

“If you and Dad split up would you petticoat me?”

“Me and Dad aren't going to split up.”

“I know but... hypothetically.”

“Ooh... that's a big word.” Mum cooed. “Hypothetically... probably not.” she said. “The difference between you and Peter is he lives in a small village in the middle of the Fens where there's nothing for the teenagers to do and more often than not they get up to no good.” she told me, citing under age drinking, smoking weed, vandalism and joy riding as examples. “Petticoating gives him a routine in which he can use his free time constructively rather than just being bored out of his mind all the time and getting in with the wrong crowd.”

“So it's not because his dad left?”

“It's a combination of things.” Mum replied.

“Hmm.” I responded.

Eventually we got through the heavy traffic and finally returned home. Both my dad and big sister were at work and Mum wasted no time having a proper look at my new underwear. “You're not going to wrap any of those up as Christmas presents are you?” I hesitantly asked. It's one thing unwrapping a pack of girl's pyjamas on Christmas morning and pretending I like them, but unwrapping a pair of frilly knickers and a training bra in front of my aunt and cousins would be too embarrassing.

Thankfully Mum said she wasn't as she unboxed my Mary Jane shoes. “Do you want to wear these for a while?” she asked.

“Now?” I gulped.

“Well you'll be wearing them tomorrow and you did say they felt a bit wobbly in the shop.” she replied, “So maybe it's worth spending and hour or so getting used to them.”

“OK.” I conceded. She'd only talk me round if I said I didn't want to.

“I do think those socks are nice.” Mum said as I removed my new ankle boots.

“I'd forgotten I was wearing them.” I replied as I wiggled my toes. Mum asked if I thought they were nice. “Too nice.” I glumly replied.

“Well you can't deny that they're perfect with those shoes.” Mum said as I pushed my feet into my new Mary Jane's.

“Well course they are.” I dryly replied. “Girlie socks will be perfect with girlie shoes.” I sighed.

“We both know they're just as much boy's shoes as they are girls.” Mum reminded me.

“They're still girlie though.” I muttered as I fastened the straps. “They've even got heart shaped buckles.” I said. I made sure the T-bars were centred and put my feet together. “They don't exactly go with these jeans.” I noted.

“Well you'll have to wait until tomorrow before you can wear them with a dress.” Mum told me.

“That's not what I meant Mum.” I defensively replied. Mum just grinned and filled the kettle. Then she suggested I put my new 'things' back in the bag and take them up to my room. “I don't want to touch them.” I grimaced, although I wasn't being entirely serious.

“You'll be wearing them everyday next week.” Mum replied.

“Not through choice.” I grumbled as I picked up the array of panties and bras and vests and placed them in the bag.

“Careful on the stairs.” Mum said as I left. I was careful and couldn't take my eyes of my feet. I tried to decide which was more girlie; the black T-bar shoes or white pelerine ankle socks. I recalled what the lady in the shoe shop said about them, saying that they're called Mary Jane's when they're for girls and Pageboy shoes when they're for boys. It was news to me but I can't deny that my new girlie shoes are in fact boy's shoes... and my new ankle boots which look far more boyish are without a doubt a pair of girls boots. I took care descending the stairs and joined Mum watching TV in the lounge. She asked if I was hungry since we'd only had a steak slice since breakfast and I ended up making both of us a pot-noodle each. After an hour or so she asked if I was getting accustomed to my new shoes and I figured I was. “Do you reckon many boys have shoes like this?” I wondered as I peered at my feet.

“Well the lady in the shop did say they're called pageboy shoes when they're for boys, so I suppose so.” Mum replied. “I've always known them as Mary Jane's. You learn something new everyday.” she added.

Another hour passed and I asked if I could take my shoes off. “Go on then.” she told me. “But will you keep your bra on 'til bedtime.”

“Why?” I wined.

“To help you get accustomed to wearing one.”

“But I've had it on all afternoon. I'm already accustomed to it.” I sighed.

“Then you won't mind wearing it for the rest of the evening.” Mum told me.

Eventually my dad and sister came home from their shifts at the hospital, albeit at different times. I feared they somehow knew I was wearing a bra beneath my jumper, but how could they? Mum did suggest I showed them my new boots so I put them on for a short while. Anna said I was a natural in heels despite me stating that I found them a bit awkward. Dad said he was proud of me and apologised for us not being able to spend this Christmas as a proper family, but hoped I have a nice time with my cousins despite the circumstances. “Were you making it up to make me feel better when you said your granny used to make you wear dresses?” I asked him.

He assured me he wasn't and said there's some photographs somewhere, possibly in a box in his mother's attic. “I'll see if I can dig them out next time we're over there... so long as you promise not to laugh.” Dad said.

“Are you gonna be here tomorrow when we go?” I asked.

“No I'll be away early.” he told me. “Why?”

“Coz I was hoping I wouldn't have to wear a dress 'til we got there but Mum wants me to wear one for the journey...”

“And you don't want me seeing you dressed as a girl?”

“Well... if you were gonna be here... I was gonna make you promise not to laugh.” I told him.

“Well I can empathise with that.” Dad said. “Mum says she's got quite a number lined up for you.”

“Have you seen it?”

“It's one of your sister's old ones.” he told me. “You're going to hate it... but whatever you wear after that won't seem so bad in comparison.”

Read part two here