It was three days before Peter’s birthday when his mother proudly stated that she’d bought him his first dress. He tried his best to get out of trying it on, but his mother insisted, claiming that if it was the wrong size she’d have to take it back. So reluctantly Peter wore the dress, hoping with all his being that it would be the wrong size and therefore returned.
“That’s perfect.” his mother said, stepping back and looking him up and down. “How does it feel?”
Peter looked down at himself, clad in pink satin with a big white bow. “Horrible. Can I take it off?” he asked. “Pleeease,” he added. His mother said he had to try his new shoes first, and much to his displeasure presented him with a pair of pink satin pumps and thin white ankle socks.
Once fully dressed, his mother stepped back and smiled at him lovingly. “You’re going to look so nice on Sunday,” she said, before planting a white ribbon on his head.
Peter gulped and looked at his reflection. “I’m not wearing this on Sunday mum,” he said. “It’s my birthday and all my friends…”
“…will be wearing dresses too.” his mother interrupted.
“No they won’t! None of my friends wear dresses!” he insisted.
“Peter darling… I put a dress code on the invites stating that boys must attend wearing party dresses.”
Peter claims she’s going to ruin his life, that none of his friends will come and they’ll think he’s turning girlie… but his mother tells him that Simon’s mother and John’s mother have already replied, and they will be attending in dresses, as will his cousins James and Michael, and Nigel from down the road.
“But, I don’t want to wear a dress mum… you know I don’t… and definitely not a pink one!”
“You’re thirteen Peter and you’ll wear what you’re told to young man!” she insisted. “Times are changing and it’s high time you started dressing your gender.” she spouts. “When was the last time you saw a girl wearing a dress?”
“Loads of girls wear dresses,” Peter replied as he pondered his mother’s question. “Like er…” he visualized all the girls in his class, “Joanne King,” he said, knowing she was the only girl who still wore a skirt, and the other girls give her grief for it.
“Well she may well still wear a skirt for school, but does she wear dresses too?” his mother asked.
Peter hung his head. “Maybe.”
“Peter,” she said calmly, placing her hands on his shoulders and thumbing the satin sleeves. “I understand that you’re instinctively fighting this… but the fact of the matter is boys, wear dresses these days… you only have to walk into any department store to work that out.”
Peter slumps on his bed and is warned by his mother not to crease his dress. He asks if he can take it off and she lets him. He pulls on his pants and t-shirt as his mother puts his dress on a hanger and places it in his wardrobe. From that moment on, Peter dreads his rapidly approaching birthday and the dress he’ll be wearing for the party.
