Dear Auntie Helga,
I went to see the girls one evening to help with math homework while their parents hosted a cocktail party in the parlor. Of course once I had provided help with my superior math skills, the mischievous girls thought I should be rewarded with a little reminder of of their own superiority. I really did want to go straight home to do my own homework, but the door was locked and a Heather went into the closet and emerged with a frilly pink dress. I was allowed to undress myself in the bathroom, and emerged wearing the dress, to an uproarious girlish response.
The short pink skirt was very short but very full, thanks to endless layers of soft lacy petticoats. I sat down on a boudoir chair to put on the white ankle socks and pink sandals. They also wanted to tie a pink ribbon in my hair, but since my hair was too short, they tied it around my neck like a choker. How they laughed! They were not only insulting my sex but my age, since the little pink dress and sandals would have been more appropriate for a six year old girl!
Standing there, the sissified center of female attention, was nothing compared to the knock at the door and the sight of her mom holding a highball glass and snapping, "What on earth is all the racket about?" Her jaw dropped at the sight of the scared boy in his girlie outfit, and she shouted over her shoulder, "You folks have got to see this!" So I was marched down the hall and into the bright living room where a dozen neighborhood adults were sipping cocktails. The women shrieked with delight at the sight of me, and the men looked pretty horrified. The girls ordered me to curtsy to the ladies, which I did, blushing furiously, knowing that the men's contempt for me had just doubled.
One man asked me what the heck was going on, and I told him the girls had done it to me. "So what?," he asked. "What's wrong with you? Do you like wearing girl clothes?" I couldn't say out loud how much I loved the petticoats, so I just said, "I'll get my shirt and pants back, but not until the girls dress me up like this. I guess they make the rules." He looked disgusted, but one of the ladies said, "I'll drink to that! The girls make the rules. I'll have to tell Fern what a pretty sissy boy she and Chet have raised."
See? In my experience, the sight of a petticoated boy is a real treat for most women. And so humiliating! Of course I didn't really mind too much. Embarrassing experiences like this were necessary for word to get around about what a sissy I was, so that boys would learn about my reputation and pay attention to me - enough said!
Thank you for your letter Peter and with such a delightful memory, obviously these occurrences had quite an effect on your personality. It is a treat for us to see a boy petticoated though it also can be threatening to men it seems.