Again I just like fed you the other day.
Okay fine anything I will just go back to sleep now if you don't mind.
What now? Gaaa darn you muses!
I remember the day of that dress. It seems silly when I think back on it.
I had been out for weeks already. I am not gonna say I was out dressed enfemme, like a girl, or dressed up. Because I wasn't I was just dressed in proper clothes and out enjoying myself being myself. Those other sayings just feel well wrong. Its like saying oh look I am wearing a costume to fool everyone. That was not the case for me at all.
I am not gonna say it was easy. The first few times I chickened out and spent way too much time doing acrobatics in a very small car to put back on the boy costume. Yes that is how I view it. I remember the first few steps away from that car in the underground parking lot. I lost about 12 pounds of water in sweat each time. But each time I got a little farther away from the car.
Then one day I took the plunge and actually opened the door into the mall and walked out. I fully expected someone to come up and arrest me. For what I have no idea at all. Each time I was out and about shopping etc as myself it got easier. It was amazing how free I felt to actually be able to drop the whole boy thing and be the girl I really am.
After awhile I was going into changerooms and trying on outfit after outfit. I never really thought along the lines of "just like other girls" this was just something I did because I wanted to. Nobody was there to push me along or anything. I had never watched girls shop before so I really had no idea.
I bought a few outfits that were quickly overloading my emergency box in the car. It was actually beginning to take a fair amount of effort to close and lock it. My room at home was also running out of hiding places for my growing wardrobe of real clothes. That's not to say boys clothing isn't real but they were well boys clothes. They didn't fit right, feel right or too rough. These feel good on my skin. And they fit! Oh my god you have no idea what that means to a person who spent half of their current life wondering what stupid idiot designs clothes that have no room at all.
Shoes that actually felt good on my feet and fit properly were another major plus at the time. The damage done to my toes and arches over the years from incorrect footwear is not something easy to explain. Lets just say that girls feet and boys feet are different. We step a different way. The bones and muscles in the feet develop differently as well. I thought I was crazy but womens flats fit perfectly. I still prefer them over running shoes but I get blisters on my toes if I try to walk a mile in flats.
Right back to the story. Well anyways I was on a high from finding the perfect outfit of a pleated skirt and matching top that I looked just so hot in when I pass by the bridal boutique. I thought what the heck and went in. I was sure someone would roughly kick me out. I still had this huge lack of confidence you understand. So after about ten nerve racking minutes of looking around without touching anything I started to relax.
I eventually started to really look at the dresses. If you have never been in a bridal boutique its like a store filled with totally feminine clothes. From adorably utterly cute flower girl dresses for toddlers to confirmations dresses for prepubescent girls to prom dresses to bridesmaids and mother of bride dresses to the ultimate bridal gowns. The sheer volume is overwhelming and takes ages to go through.
So here I was looking around all by myself and the sales lady utterly bored behind her counter. She looked at me once or twice and had greeted me but my "just looking" had turned her off I guess. I had been in the store now for like an hour maybe more. Its hard to remember as I just wasn't paying any attention to time.
I eventually go around to IT. IT was THE GOWN. This gown was so beautiful it just outshone all the others in the store. I still do not for the life of me remember if it was the most expensive or not in the store. It had long lace sleeves where the lace seemed to be made of soft silk. There was a little tiny silk finger hole at the end of the sleeve for the middle finger where the sleeve tapered too. The top of these sleeves were not hugely puffy but did puff out a bit not much but a bit for that extra feminine touch. The bodice had a wide open neck that gave the impression of showing plenty of cleavage but in truth didn't. The open v neck was also attached to a delicate lace bodice of the same silky lace. Now most lace is itchy at best and only really comfy after multiple washings. This wasn't. It was comfy right away new.
The long white satin skirt had enough embroidery to satisfy any girly girls wet dreams. The skirt started high on the hips and flared all the way to the floor where it ended in a heavily embroidered hem that almost looked like lace in itself. You could see that it also had the long train. At a guess I would say at least 6 feet long if not longer. The back of the dress was also an open v which would make wearing a normal bra impossible. This tapered down with a zipper and not buttons to create an almost seamless back that ended in this huge satin bow. The whole dress was impossibly white. What wasn't lace was filled with embroidery.
I just stood there totally and utterly mesmerized that I didn't even notice that the sales lady had left her perch nor walked up to me. I was so enthralled the world could have been blown to pieces around me and I would not have noticed a thing. I even dropped my bags as I was touching the dress.
I have to admire that sales lady she never once tried to interrupt me she just waited patiently for me to come back to earth and notice her. She said the best possible thing I could have heard and will always treasure.
"Would you like to try it on?"
I mean like oh my god how could I say anything at all but yes! I didn't even think of myself as a boy in a dress wanting to wear another dress but as just another woman wanting to see myself in it. It was the most perfect wedding gown ever. I just nervously nodded to her she asked my size which I told her. Then she also asked me what my bra size was, and before I could answer she guessed it. Actually she guessed my correct size because at the time I was wearing a size too small. She asked this so she could get a strapless bra. It was not till much later that I gathered she noticed I was stuffing my bra.
I went to this fitting room that was all mirrors all around a pedestal. She brought me the bra and then the dress which she unzipped and opened for me. I got changed out of my skirt blouse but left my half slip on to hide my defect. Yes defect not shame, not manhood, defect. She didn't mind at all. And after I worked my way into that strapless bra which was more along the lines of a waist cincher, bustier and had stuffed the cups to give me a breastline she returned with this huge petticoat that she had me step into and then zipped me into it.
At this point I was so nervous I was literally shaking from excitement. The fitting of the dress onto my body was like having sparks dancing on your skin. My whole body was crying out YES! Getting my slim arms into the sleeves of the dress that seemed impossibly made for me took a try or too as I had never worn anything remotely like that before. She calmly zipped me into the dress and then fluffed and tied the bow in the back. She then came around the front and pulled a bit here and there. The whole time my attention was focused on either her or the wonderful feelings the dress itself was giving me.
She asked me to not look in the mirrors yet when she went out and came back with a veil which she fitted to my long hair. She did some more fluffing that I could feel as she told me to close my eyes. With my eyes closed she had me move a bit on the pedestal and then I could hear her move that long train around behind me.
When she finally said to open my eyes I was utterly and completely flabbergasted. So much so I actually got slightly faint. She caught me with the ease of long practice apparently its not unusual for a girl to faint at the sight of oneself in a mirror. I looked like the perfect bride. The dress showed off and also gave me the illusion of gorgeous womanly curves. I must have stared at myself in those mirrors for ages.
I did get scared when she asked if I would take the dress. I so wanted to buy the dress right there. But that nasty part of me said I could never really wear such a dress. It was not right. I was supposed to be a man and a man wore a tuxedo to a wedding and not the brides dress. I was therefore half to the point of tears and half scared. Taking off the dress was like removing ones skin. It was horrible but I had to do it.
My perfect outfit of a few hours earlier seemed so dull and plain in comparison at the time. I vaguely remember uttering pleasantries of being back sometime later to make a decision on the dress. I left the store and almost ran back to my car in tears. How cruel was it that a girl like me, and at that time there was defiantly no question as to what gender I really was. Was forced to live as a boy by a cruel society for an accident of birth. I took off my real clothes ready to put back on my boys costume. But I couldn't deal with that. So I just put back on what I had just taken off and for the first time started the long drive home in my real clothes as the real me.
I would love to say I arrived at home and caused a big stir but I didn't when I got home neither my siblings nor my parents were around. I got undressed in peace where I folded and put away everything into its hiding place. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve hoodie. I took a very long and hot bath till everyone came home. That night pretending to be "the boy" was hard. Much harder than usual. I knew I couldn't tell anyone about the dress and it was killing me inside.
The memory of that dress haunted me for weeks. I really do mean weeks as I forced myself to be "the boy" for my parents. I am sure I failed a whole bunch of times. My mother, bless her, tried to get me to talk about what was bothering her but I just couldn't.
About two months later I was back in the city again as myself, I couldn't hide anymore yet again, and I passed by that bridal salon where my dress was in the window. I could have stopped in again but I forced myself to move on.
It has been many years since I first saw my dress in that innocent store. I still dream about it to this day. And in each dream I am wearing that dress with my father escorting me down the aisle to my husband. The only changes in the dream are my husband to be and the age of my father. I have not step foot into a bridal salon again since. I do not think I could bear the pain of either the rejection of the sales people or the enthrall of another dress I cannot buy.
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