momma's pride and joy

Sissy Boy

I spent the rest of the day doing house work. Stopping lots of times to check out what was happening to my hair, by looking in a hand mirror with my back to the wall mirror. Each time I patted my damp hair, and pushed at the plastic curlers to my scalp. It was uncomfortable and I was curious to see the results.

I asked Ma several times if I could take the curlers out (they hurt), but she said no and told me that under no circumstances should I remove them without her permission.

At the dinner table I still had the rollers in my hair. I felt so silly I couldn't bare to look at my brothers. All during the meal they kept cutting their eyes at each other, giggling and snickering.

"You look like a girl," Jimmy said.

"Kevin's a sissy girl," chimed in Jessie.

I guess I did look silly with curlers in my hair. But Ma made me feel even more silly.

"Now boys, Kevin's not a sissy girl; he's more of a sissy boy."

"What's a sissy boy?" inquired Johnny. "That's a boy who looks like a boy, but acts like a girl," Ma answered, a smile in her eyes.

The boys all laughed and I felt really bad, especially because it was all Ma's fault.

"Now, now boys don't get carried away. Your brother's going to be like the woman of the house just as Tim is the man of the house. Kevin isn't very pretty now, but he will be and I know you'll all be happy to see a young pretty face around the house."

"Ya," said Jimmy sarcastically, "he's going to look pretty like mom."

"Thank you, Jim," Ma replied not realizing the sarcasm in his voice. "And I want you to listen and obey Kevin just as though he were me, just like you'd obey me."

The younger boys giggled, knowing how often they were disobedient.

"Now promise me, boys."

"Yes ma'am, we'll behave," the two middle brothers, Jimmy and Jessie, answered without giving their answer a second thought. Their world was full of horseplay, creek stomping, sports, and all manner of boys stuff, anything else, they didn't give much thought to.

Tim was the oldest and wisest in our eyes. He was a man; with a job, driving a car, and going on dates with girls and we all listened to him as much if not more than Ma. If he said something was okay, then it was okay with the rest of us.

"Whether he was actually serious or not, he told Ma, "Don't worry, Ma, I'll make sure they toe the line."

That night I had a hard time sleeping. Ma had insisted I wear the hair curlers to bed.

I also kept thinking about all that had happened that day. Finally I fell asleep with my face on my pillow.

The next day Ma said she'd take the curlers out of my hair after breakfast. As I ate breakfast, I began to wonder if I really didn't want them out because, what would I do if mom was right and I really did look like a pretty girl or what if I didn't like the way I looked at all?

Right after breakfast Mama sat me on a foot stool in the living room and carefully removed the curlers, unwinding each one to the end of the strand before pulling it out.

"All dry," Ma announced, running her fingers through my hair, and brushing the curls out to a wave.

When she was done, she admired her work and gushed over how happy I had made her. I couldn't see her at that point, because she was behind me, but the sound of her voice led me to believe there was probably tears in her eyes, tears of joy.

She began to feel weak and laid back on the couch. I jumped up and raced to the bathroom mirror. I was dying to know how I looked.

Pushing the half closed bathroom door aside, I didn't stop running until my stomach hit the front edge of the sink.

I quickly looked up, and that's when I saw the voluminous waves of hair, my hair, cascading over my ears, fluttering off my cheeks, and the curls twisted on my forehead to my eyebrows. I now had bouncy waves that sensuously tempted one to touch it, to run their fingers through it.

I rapidly shock my head from side to side, taking note of how differently my hair felt now, verses before when it was limp, lifeless, and straight.

I became excited when I reached up and felt my hair. I hesitatingly slid my fingers into the tendrils and felt their silkiness but dared not continue for fear of spoiling the perfection.

It was a bold, beautiful look for a girl, much, much too girly for a boy. I knew I'd have to be brave sporting this new look and I hoped I was able to do just that, for Ma. I knew I looked cute, which is what Ma was going for, and with the way it made me feel to know this made her happy, I knew I would be keeping this hairdo, for now.

That afternoon at dinner time, Ma wasn't feeling well enough to come to the table and I served her dinner in bed. When I returned to our big kitchen table where my younger brothers chatted about their day, they paid little attention to me.

Timmy didn't say much, but he glanced at me every so often. I remained quiet as I usually was.

Later, I was washing the dishes alone in the kitchen wearing a ruffled pink apron over my blue jeans when Timmy came up behind me.

"I think you look kinda cute, little brother," he said as he touched my hair and bent over to smell it.

He breathed deeply and exhaled a long sigh.

"Smells good," he told me while standing so close to me that his blue jeans almost touched mine.

Both his hands rested on the kitchen counter top, one on either side of me, as he moved so close that I could feel his muscular body touch me. Many times in the past, he had pinned me to the ground when we rough housed.

I remembered the times we wrestled, with him holding my outstretched arms on the ground, his body pressing mine and him calling me names, making me cry.

I tensed up waiting for him to toss me to the floor, mess up my hair, and call me a sissy, a little sissy boy.

Of course I could never compete against his strength and often wished I was big and strong and could flip him over and make him cry "uncle." I had always envied Tim because he was big and strong and handsome, a guy girls were drawn to, but I also hated him for the ways he picked on me, making me feel so weak and  helpless.

Right now, he was making me feel helpless, but in a different way. My body, with every muscle still tensed up, began to tremble. What was he about to do, what was he going to say?

"I, I.... think think what's going on with you is really weird. Why? Why are you doing this to me? Leave me alone," he stammered and then turned and walked away without waiting for an answer.

What does he mean by that, I thought.

That was a big blow to my confidence. My mind was now swirling with conflicting thoughts.

I was in a daze, a sort of trance, trying to understand what just happened.

I finished cleaning the kitchen and after a shower, went to bed, recalling his words over and over in my head . . . but more than that, something else dominated my thoughts, I pondered his muscular body touching mine.

So many things ran through my head that night; so many questions. I suddenly realized something: I had like a secret spell over my big brother, like a hidden super power.

Geez, I thought, that's really cool, or could be useful, at least.

That night I had all kinds of dreams, some that suprised and embarrassed me and that I wouldn't ever tell anyone about.