Be a girl

The silence that befell our group was suffocatingly awkward. The mood had shifted after my epiphany. I hadn’t said anything, but I didn’t really need to, nor did I really want to. Claire had already said everything. Despite the awkward mood however, I felt just that little bit better about myself. For good reason too. I had discovered a part of myself that had always been there, but which I had shut away in an attempt to protect myself, and now suddenly things began to make much more sense.

It wasn’t until Isabel suggested that we stop playing the game that the pressure constricting us all eased off. There was absolutely no way we could possibly continue with the game after what had happened. There was an air that perhaps we should talk about it, but I simply could not.

But that did leave us in another awkward position, as we now had to choose a new activity to pass the time. The night was still fairly young, and I suspected we wouldn’t be going to bed until much much later; possibly after midnight, and that was still a while away.

This time, it was Claire who suggested a new activity for us.

“Right, so,” she said, “since Bea is a girl for tonight, why don’t we dress her up in some girl clothes? Assuming she’s ok with it of course.”

I had definitely lost count of the number of times that I’d blushed tonight. Was I ok with that? I knew that it was something I’d wanted to do for a while. But I also knew that it was wrong. I shouldn’t want it, but I did. And yet, not only did she seem to have no qualms with me wearing feminine attire, but she was suggesting that I do so? I was struggling to comprehend that.

“Do we even have anything she could wear?” Rachel asked, completely ignoring how red I must have been. Probably for the best. We’d likely get nothing done for the rest of the night if we kept stopping every time one of us became flustered.

“Well, she and Izzy are like, the exact same size. And we’re at Izzy’s house at the moment. I’m sure we could find something.”

“Wait, what about Izzy?” Rachel said, “Is she ok with Bea wearing her clothes?”

“I’m fine with it if she’s fine with it,” Izzy shrugged.

“What do you think, Bea?” Claire asked.

I squirmed within my seat. My mind was racing. Was this really ok? Did they really have no problem with it? I couldn’t believe it. Nor could I speak. But I really really wanted to do this. And if the girls were telling me that it was fine, then I would trust them, even if I couldn’t understand why they didn’t mind. So, I nodded.

The girls quickly got to work, rummaging through Isabel’s closet furiously to find something suitable for me to wear. They would pull something out, take a short look over it, then over at me, and decide whether or not they thought it suitable. They were a whirlwind, sorting through the outfits with breakneck speed. Or well, Rachel and Izzy were. Claire hung back, unsure of what to do. She was still new to this after all.

Eventually they had a substantial pile of clothes laying on Izzy’s bed – clothes which they thought would look good on me. The size of the pile shocked me. Just how many clothes did Isabel own? Even just that pile on the bed was more outfits than I actually owned. There were still many many more clothes tucked away in her closet, and it made my head spin just thinking about it. How could one person own so many clothes?

Now that they’d created a shortlist of outfits, they each held up a garment and asked whether I wanted to try it on. I, of course, had no clue what I was doing, and as such, had no idea how to respond. I couldn’t pick an outfit, because I didn’t know which one I preferred. They noticed my hesitancy, thankfully, and asked if I was ok with letting them decide for me. I nodded. That made things much easier for me. Making decisions was hard.

They mused amongst themselves, carefully considering the options on the shortlist, looking over each garment thoroughly. Finally, they picked out a beautiful summer dress; black and covered with a multitude of small white polka dots. They asked me if I liked it, to which I responded with another nod.

My heart rate had spiked once again as they handed me the garment. My breath had suddenly become shaky. I was holding a dress. A dress which everyone expected me to wear. The soft fabric felt like heaven on my skin. Goosebumps arose all over my body as I stared down at it. It looked so unassuming, and yet it was surreal.

Everyone gave me encouraging smiles as I stood awkwardly with the garment draped over my arms. I wanted to smile back, but I was far too overwhelmed with nerves for that. Izzy led me to the bathroom so that I could change in privacy. She told me to shout out if I needed help putting it on. I thanked her for the offer and entered the bathroom.

Placing the dress down to free my hands, I slowly removed my own clothes, stripping myself down to my underwear. I picked up the dress and stared at it. I was really going to do this, wasn’t I? I never would have considered doing something like this in a million years if the girls hadn’t encouraged me, if they hadn’t picked out the dress for me.

I could see why Izzy offered to help me. This wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to work out how to put on. With a bit of fiddling, and a rather embarrassing amount of time, I eventually did figure it out though. The dress opened up similar to a button up shirt, except, instead of buttons, it had a belt made of the same polka-dotted material as the rest of the dress. I slotted it through a hole in the side of the dress, and then tied it up in a shoelace like bow as best I could so that the front didn’t open up and flash everyone.

I was in disbelief. I was wearing a dress. I had always been so envious of James whenever he wore a dress, despite knowing it was wrong to feel that way. And here I was wearing one myself. It didn’t feel real. The emotions coursing through my entire body made it difficult to think. It was a high I never thought possible. I just had to ignore what that unwanted appendage down below was currently doing. It felt gross thinking about it, and I tried my best to expunge its existence from my mind.

The door creaked as I opened it, revealing a smiling redhead on the other side. She inspected me closely before nodding in satisfaction. “You look great.”

Her comment made my face all hot, and I covered it up in embarrassment. She didn’t mean it. She didn’t actually believe her own words. But her expression told me that she likely did. I didn’t argue.

She giggled at my blushing and gently grabbed my hand, pulling it down into a more relaxed position. I didn’t fight her; I let my other arm fall to my side. She led me back to her room, keeping a firm grip on my hand to keep me from letting go.

The other two girls eagerly awaited my return, as evidenced by the visible excitement written all over them when Izzy and I returned.

At the sight of me, Rachel let out a wolf whistle.

“You look B-E-A-utiful,” Claire said. A coy smile was all I could manage in response to both their reactions. I was still too nervous to speak, despite their affirmations, but I very much appreciated them. I couldn’t deny that the flurry of emotions I was currently experiencing were wonderful.

A hand brushed through my hair, and I turned towards its owner. Izzy stood beside me, a pensive expression on her face. She released my hair and rubbed at her chin. “We really should do something about this hair; it’s a mess!”

“That’s cause she doesn’t brush it!” Claire teased. She was right of course. I never really cared enough about my appearance to ever bother. I looked terrible no matter how much effort I put in, so why bother?

“You’re one to talk, Claire,” Rachel scoffed playfully.

Claire crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from Rachel with a pout. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rachel jumped on her instantly, running her fingers through Claire’s hair and pulling it. “This mop definitely needs some work.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Claire scoffed.

“Fix it!” Rachel exclaimed, “Scoot forward.” Claire obliged, shuffling forward on the beanbag to give Rachel some space to straddle behind her. “Ugh, you’re too tall!” Rachel complained immediately after sitting herself behind Claire. She should have seen that coming. The two rearranged themselves once again, with Rachel sitting on the bed, while Claire moved the beanbag over so that she could sit at the other girl’s feet.

While they were doing that Izzy turned to me. “Let’s leave the walking balls of excitement to themselves,” she said. “Would you like me to style your hair for you?”

I smiled and nodded. “Thanks,” I whispered. She went over to her desk and grabbed a hairbrush and quickly got to work. It was strange, having another person brushing my hair. The last time that would have happened, I would have been around James’ age. Mum probably wanted me to look nice for some event. I couldn’t really remember.

Unfortunately, since I hadn’t brushed my hair in a very long time, it was all knotted, which meant Izzy had her work cut out for her. After several minutes of pulling and tugging at my hair to beat the knots, she was finally satisfied. With the brushing at least. She wasn’t done yet.

She grabbed a couple hair ties and pulled my hair into two ponytails. She commented that my hair was too short to do anything too fancy, but she didn’t complain. She had to work with what she had. The finishing touch was a hair clip that pinned the hair above my forehead off to the side of my face. A satisfied nod indicated that she was done.

We both looked over at the other two and saw that they were also done. Rachel had much more freedom to style Claire’s hair as it was much longer than mine, and styled it into a braid. Claire couldn’t help herself, and was flicking her braid around, a silly grin on her face. That earnt a giggle from both Izzy and Rachel.

Izzy asked me if I wanted to take a look at myself in the mirror. I hadn’t even thought of doing that before, while I was in the bathroom. Mirrors had always been a source of pain for me, and I did my best to avoid them where possible. But perhaps today would be different. I was already in a good mood; how much worse could it get? The girls had all said I looked good, and I wanted to believe them, and there was only one way to find out if they were right.

Izzy dragged me over to her closet, opening its door to reveal a full length mirror. She pointed it at me so that I could see all of myself. And there I was, standing before myself, wearing a pretty dress, my hair styled in a feminine manner. A sight I would never have thought possible. I looked… like a cute girl.

No you don’t.

You’re just an ugly boy pretending. Pretending to be something that you’re not and never can be. Look at you. Shoulders too broad, completely flat chest, not a single curve in sight. That dress doesn’t fit you properly in the slightest, why did you believe this was a good idea? You’re not a girl, you’re a fraud. You can’t be a girl. Ever.

Look at that ugly boy face. Those thick eyebrows, that square jaw. And those hairs on your chin. You can feel them, a permanent reminder of what you are. Prickling, crawling, constantly growing, never going away.

How could you possibly think this was a good idea? The girls are just humouring you. They’re secretly laughing at you behind your back. They all think you’re a freak. They’re gloating. Gloating that they can be girls, and you can’t. Ever. Especially Claire. She got everything you ever wanted, and she is relishing it. But you can’t ever have that. You’re not allowed. Why do you think she suggested you do this? To laugh at you. To remind you that she’s better than you.

Did you think that wearing a dress would somehow make your most male part disappear? You can feel it down there, I know you can. You’re getting off on this, freak. This is just a disgusting fetish. Pervert. Why are you trying to deny what you really are? What is wrong with you?

“Bea, are you ok?”

I bolted, running as fast as I could out of the room, and then the house. I couldn’t be here anymore. I was a fraud and a freak. I couldn’t be around them anymore. I was an ugly gross boy pretending and nothing would ever change that. I was right to feel like an imposter, and I was wrong to think that I could try to deny that truth.

“Bea, wait!”

I ignored them. Run. Get away. Couldn’t be here. The cool autumn night air bit at my skin as I ran, but I paid it no heed. The only thing that mattered was increasing the distance between the house and me.

Hands wrapped around my midsection, halting me completely. I struggled to free myself, but the arms were simply too strong.

“Let go of me!” I yelled, trying to tear the hands away from my body.

“Bea, please,” Claire pleaded.

“I said fuck off!”

“I’m just trying to help!”

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job like always!”

Claire’s arms loosened, giving me enough wiggle room to free myself from her grasp. I immediately took off once again. She didn’t follow, allowing me to put quite the distance between us before I ran out of breath and had to slow down.

I walked for a short while, allowing my heart rate to come down, before breaking down into tears. I stopped walking and crouched over, letting the waterworks flow freely. I covered my face, sobbing and wailing, letting it all out. I wanted to disappear; maybe then the pain would go away. But I couldn’t even have that either. I was too much of a coward.

Why did I have to be a boy? Why couldn’t I be a girl like my friends? Why had I been granted the ability to bestow upon others the kind of body I’d always dreamed of for myself? Why did I even want that? What was wrong with me?

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

Eventually I ran out of tears, though the pain hadn’t ended. It lingered, still as sharp as before. It wasn’t going anywhere. No matter how much I cried, it would never go away. The universe hated me, and I it. I could never have anything nice, no matter how much I wished it.

But, I couldn’t remain all alone in the dark forever. As much as I wanted to disappear, the cold was starting to become uncomfortable. Soon, it would be unbearable. Sniffling, I picked myself up and took stock of where I was. I had no idea, and the dim glow of the streetlights didn’t help one bit. All I did know was that home was east of Izzy’s house, and thankfully, the moon was a near full waxing gibbous, having risen only a few hours prior. I quickly located it, and I headed in its direction. I would run into a familiar road or landmark soon enough, and I could navigate home from there.

I finally realised that I was still wearing the dress, and my feet were still bare after having my nails painted. I internally kicked myself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Everyone could now see me for the freak that I really was. They’d see me and know how disgusting I was. Not to mention that the thin material was completely inappropriate for this cool weather. I shivered and rubbed my arms to keep warm.

After what felt like forever, I found a location with which I was familiar, and started making my way home for real. By the time I arrived home, I was freezing. I wanted to take a warm shower and head straight to bed afterwards. I needed to get the entire night out of my head.

The back door of dad’s home was unlocked. Typical. But for once, I was thankful for my dad’s absentmindedness. I didn’t have my keys on me, or my phone since I’d left them both at Izzy’s house along with the rest of my clothes. I closed the door behind me almost silently. The last thing I needed was for dad or James to spot me wearing this dress.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t quiet enough.

“Ben? What are you…” dad began but trailed off at the sight of me… wearing a dress. We stared at each other silently. Him taking in the sight of me. Me overwhelmed with anxiety. I wanted to say something, anything, but I was far too anxious for that. I wanted to crumple in on myself, to evaporate into nothing. Alas.

“Have you been crying? Are you ok?”

I didn’t respond at all, I simply continued to stare at him, expressionless. He completely ignored my current outfit, instead asking straight away how I was feeling. How he could do that, I didn’t understand. But I couldn’t answer him. I wasn’t ok. Not in the slightest. He took my silence as an answer, and gently wrapped me in his arms. I didn’t hug him back.

When he broke away, there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he’d shed a few tears of his own. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” he said. I wished that were true. But it wasn’t that simple. “I’ll always love you, no matter what,” he added.

I looked away from him. I wanted this night to be over as soon as possible. Without a word, I took my leave. Before I left the room, dad said, softly, calmly, reassuringly, “You look nice by the way. It suits you.”

I tried holding back the tears, I really did, but they overwhelmed me. I fell to my knees, sobbing quietly. The fact that dad saw me like this, wearing a dress, finally struck home. I couldn’t bear it. My disgusting desire on full display. Mocking him. His feminine body was such an obvious source of pain – pain that I caused – and yet a body like his was the only thing I’d ever truly wanted in my life. And now he knew about my selfish, perverted desire. There was no going back now.

He hugged me again, quietly shushing me and telling me everything was going to be ok. But I didn’t believe him. How could anything ever be ok? After everything that had happened? Our family wasn’t allowed to be happy, and I was the centre of it all. I was a ruiner of lives, that was all I’d ever be.