| I think I must have been 6 or so when I started wishing I was a girl. I liked to play dress up with Barbie dolls (No GI Joes yet, and I could care less about Ken) and most of my friends were girls in the neighborhood and we would play together. I lived on an army base at the time, and as anyone who grew up in the military knows we were only at a base from 12-18 months at a time. Then one day Steve moved in across the street from me. Would get up early on Saturday mornings and watch TV and play. One Sunday morning we were up early and no cartoons were on, so he asked if I wanted dress up in his sisters clothes and play girls, he said he use to do it all the time were he use to live. Even at this young age I knew I wanted to because of how I felt. Steve's sister was about 2 years older, but being boys we were the right size. He went into her room as she was sleeping and pulled out some panties, socks and two dresses. I remembered I picked the yellow spring dress with the flower print, it was very pretty. He found a pair of black shinny leather shoes for me to wear as well. We even used dark towels as wigs to top it off! We were a pair of sisters. I don't remember what we did when dressed, the years have fogged most of the details, but I do remember we were caught behind the sofa that morning by his parents. Steve and didn't play that much after that encounter. I remember my mother saying what I did was wrong that boys don't dress like girls. "But how come they can dress like me. In jeans and T-shirts?" I asked. Her response was "Because they can". It never seemed fair to me, even to this day. Not more than a few months later His father was transferred to a base in Delaware and I never saw or heard from Steve again. I have thought of this time often over the years and wondered what ever became of the little boy I use to play with. I know it sounds a bit like the end of the waltons, but it's A Very True Story. |