“I can’t go to the EnromoDome dressed as girl Izzy!” I stated. “What will people think?”
“They’ll be too busy watching the stage to even notice you.” she replied. “No one will think anything and like I said, it’s not optional.”
“But!” I frowned.
“You’ve always let me dress you up in the past.”
“But that was inside, behind closed doors… not outside where people will see me!”
“We’re going to London… no one will know you and for all anyone knows, you’re one of four girls going to a concert.”
“’til I speak, then they’ll know I’m not a girl.”
“Who?” my sister quizzed.
“People.” I retorted.
“What people?”
“People in the hotel, people in the shops, people at the concert.”
“We’ll do all the talking when we’re booking in and buying food… you can be the cute shy type… just smile and nod.” she said.
I wasn’t at all keen on dressing as a girl but my sister told me that it wasn’t optional. If I’m adamant that I wont, then I wont go to the concert, it’s as simple as that. “Mum won’t be happy if I go home and tell her that you wouldn’t let me go unless I dressed as a girl.” I stated.
“I’ll just tell her that it was to ensure we don’t get separated.” my sister replied. “And it was me who bought your ticket, not Mum… so it’s me who calls the shots.” she said.
I wanted nothing more than to go and see AC/DC and knew I’d regret it if I did back out… so with a heavy heart and huge sulk, I agreed. It took ages to remove my leg hair for the triathlon, today it’s just a quick ten minute whiz in the bath to remove the stubble from both my legs and pits. I sit wearing Terrie’s bathrobe whilst she paints my nails in a really dark purple shade. Meanwhile, my sister is straightening my hair whilst Cat cleanses, then powders my face ready for my make-up. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I said as all three of them simultaneously tended to me.
Once my hair was done they began working on my make-up. It was a committee run process with plenty of bickering and disagreements over how my eyes could look, what shade of lipstick I should wear, what to do with my eyebrows… My sister asked my opinion and I suggested that they do what they like. “…so long as I don’t look like a sixteen year old boy when you’ve finished.” I said, suggesting just one of them does my make-up because the clock really is ticking.
Terrie ended up taking charge and for no other reason than expediency, I allowed her to tidy my eyebrows rather than waste another ten minutes discussing it. “Just don’t take too much off.” I pleaded. “I don’t want to look like a guy tonight but I really don’t want to look like a girl tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry.” Terrie said. “You’re in good hands.” she assured, before taking a little more off.