Working Out Issues

"You can't just stick it in there!" I yelled.

I put down the eyeliner and glared at myself in the mirror. Idiot! The YouTube tutorials made it look so easy, but so far all my attempts had ended in disaster. Years of gaming should have given me great hand-eye co-ordination, but apparently hand-eyeliner co-ordination was a different matter. Now I was getting really impatient, which was making me even sloppier, which was making me even more frustrated!

I took a deep breath, and wiped away my last shitty attempt.

"Just take it slow, and get it right," I muttered to myself.

It was almost midday on Friday. After Jeremy went home, I had spent some time thinking about what he said. All the stuff about societal expectations, and questioning your own behavior, and... a little bit about how he had initially thought Adam was gay. It made me realise two things.

First of all, all the stuff I had been worried about between me and Adam was totally fine. Sure, it wasn't how society said two straight guys should behave, but it worked for us. It didn't mean Adam was into me, or I was into him. We were just helping each other out. And anyway, it was going to stop tonight, and then things would be totally normal.

Secondly, clothes were just clothes, right?

Who cared if a piece of fabric that went on your legs had two holes at the bottom or just one? What made a shirt different to a dress besides length? There wasn't actually any distinction between male and female clothing except that people somehow decided to pretend there was.

So why not just wear clothes that made me look good?

There was literally no reason not to. I mean, the clothes were right there. So I went through all the clothes Adam had bought me, and put them away in my closet. There wasn't really that much stuff, and a lot of it was pretty basic. Pants and tops that, while they definitely looked feminine, were basically the same as what I used to wear. Except smaller (thanks Adam), and, okay, a lot more stylish (thanks Ashanti). But I felt good about my decision to get over unnecessary gendered labels.

And then I found My Dress.

I didn't realise that's what it was at first. When I took it out of the bag I thought it was a t-shirt. That's what the top looked like, a black t-shirt, with some lace accents on the sleeves. But it didn't end at the waist. Instead the fabric kind of pinched together, then flared out, into a mid-length pleated skirt. I held it up in front of me. It was so simple. Classy. Elegant. Pretty.

Oh my god, it was so pretty.

My mouth went dry. It... it was just a piece of clothing. Just a normal piece of clothing. My pulse quickened. It was mine. My dress. My dress! I was just gonna put it in the closet with my other clothes. My baggy old sweatpants and my t-shirts with video game logos on them and   M Y   D R E S S.

I was just going to put My Dress away with my other clothes and then I could wear it later.

Or I could wear it now.

I whipped my head around and made eye contact with my little mirror. No, not good enough. I dragged My Dress over to the full-length mirror in Adam's room and held it up in front of me. Oh my god. It was going to fit, right?  Yes, it was going to fit. But maybe it wouldn't,  maybe I should try it on now. No. Wait. My hair wasn't right. And... oh my god. I should wear makeup. Right? I looked at My Dress in the mirror. It hung coolly from my hands, like it didn't even care what was going on. Holy fuck, it looked so pretty. Yes. Okay. Makeup. I needed makeup!

I laid My Dress down on one of the merch boxes in Adam's room, and then immediately felt guilty and hung it on a coathanger instead. Then it was research, then running down to the pharmacy, and now I was in the bathroom jabbing an eyeliner pencil in and around my eye.

"Just take it slow, and get it right," I repeated, like a mantra. I wasn't even sure why I cared, or why I felt like My Dress demanded makeup. I just felt like... what if I tried it on, and looked in the mirror... and it didn't look right?

My stomach lurched. I took another deep breath and took the eyeliner away from my eye. I hadn't smeared or gone wonky, and right now that was all I was looking for. I kept going, applying mascara, then foundation, then lipstick, and then paused. I studied my face in the mirror. My skin looked a little more flawless, my eyelashes were more full, my eyes looked a little bigger. But I still looked pretty normal. I gulped and left the bathroom.

My Dress was waiting for me in my room. I avoided eye contact, which was... actually impossible not to do, because it was a dress. I changed quickly, trying to stay calm. I paired My Dress with a black bra and panties, and black T-strap shoes with a little heel, and a silver belt around the waist, and then took a deep breath and walked out.

I could feel the skirt swishing against my legs, brushing against my hands as I carefully stepped down the hall. Maybe it was the skirt or maybe it was the heels, but I found myself swaying my hips just a little bit more. I got to Adam's room, steadied my nerves, fixed my hair, and looked into the mirror.

My Dress fit perfectly at the top, hugging my boobs, showing off the figure I had been working so hard for. It cinched around my waist, then flared out, the pleated skirt making my hips look even bigger than they really were. The skirt came down to just above my knees, showing off my calves, which looked sexy and smooth and toned, helped by the little heels. My hair came down in golden waves around my glowing, beautiful face. I turned side to side and laughed in disbelief. I looked beautiful. I was beautiful. I stepped away from the mirror, covering my mouth.

"Oh my god," I whispered, "Oh my god!"

I sat down on Adam's bed, hugging my shoulders, then immediately got back up and went back to the mirror for another look. I was beautiful! I really looked like this? I looked like this the whole time and I didn't realise until I put on a stupid dress?!

It was like my whole body had been transformed, and yet I could see that it was actually still totally the same. The makeup wasn't hiding anything, just adding a bit of flavor to what was already there. My double chin, and my flabby arms, and... everything that I had hated about my body was still there. But I didn't hate it now. I loved it. It was perfect.

And I looked like a girl.

I shook my head, watching my hair dance, and laughed. Forget looking like a girl. I looked like me. For the first time, I was looking in the mirror and seeing myself. That was all I had really wanted this whole time, wasn't it?

I smiled, and skipped out of the room. Well, I didn't really skip, because i didn't want to break an ankle. But that was the vibe. I was moving, and i was really happy about it.

I wanted to show Adam, but he was still at work, so instead I just sat around the living room, played some video games, and waited. I was full of nervous energy. I wanted to work out, but I didn't want to ruin my hair, or makeup, or, god forbid, My Dress!

It was only when I heard Adam open the front door that I even considered it might possibly freak him out to see me dressed like this.

"I'm home, dude!" he called out, "Had a client bail, so I figured I'd come have lunch with --"

He rounded the corner and stopped dead. I stood up, nervously shimmying my shoulders, making My Dress swirl around my legs.

"Bro," Adam said, mouth agape, "Are you... wearing a dress?"

"Yeah," I shrugged and smiled up at him, "It's not a big deal."