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Brad's Therapy By Slothrop Chapter 1: No Retreat, No Surrender I watched my mother. She had that 'thousand yard stare' again, sitting on the porch. I knew it was best to just be with her and wait until she came out of it. It had been six months since she had been rescued from the South American jungle and I still did not know all that had happened to her. I had missed my parents terribly for the two years they had been missing, kidnapped by a group of self-styled political rebels. Rebels my ass... Thugs and killers. I was glad they were all dead. Mom had had to watch them kill Dad and it had pretty much crushed her emotionally. The Special Forces Captain who led the team in had taken Sandy, my sister and me aside and told the story of how she had been found. While Mom lay in a hospital bed, being examined and treated for malnutrition, exposure and a few rare parasites, we had learned that loving, gentle Mom, freed from her wire caged area was there when the rebels were lined up to be returned. They were on the ground, hands tied behind their backs. Mom had asked the Captain if they were going to be interrogated, if they might know anything useful. The Captain had said no, they were pretty much just guards. They already had the bigger fish in custody. Mom had walked up to one of the men on the ground, pulled a homemade knife out and slit his throat. The other two men started screaming. The Captain, having been through this too many times, had looked at his troops and nodded. The five other soldiers looked the other way as Mom quietly killed the other two. She had then collapsed in the Captain's arms. Dad's death had had a down payment. The Captain told them that he had never said this, it appeared in no report and he would deny it, backed up by his men. He wanted us to know for Mom's sake. He had spent nine months and lost three men trying to get our parents back and was damned if, having gotten there too late to save our Dad he would not have someone know what happened to help with Mom's recovery. Captain Jack said, "I've seen guys tougher than your Mom go through less than she did and never get over it. I visit them when I can at the VA hospital. Your Mom's a great lady and she is going to need you to help her with this. If what I told you became public knowledge there would be stupid legal and international investigation bullshit, pardon my language Sandra (my sister) and she doesn't need that. Her shrink can know, if you trust her shrink not to feel sympathy for those 'rebels' and make political hay out of it. I wouldn't trust them, myself. I told your Grandma, she's a pretty sharp old girl and she asked me to tell you. The rest is up to you. Take care of Carolyn (that's Mom). She deserves better than she's had in the last two years." I thought Sandy was going to jump on Captain Jack and take him right there, which she probably would have tried in better circumstances. Instead, she had thanked him, burst into tears and hugged him. I had a few tears too, despite my best efforts to fight them back. I felt better when I saw the Captain's eyes were moist. He shook my hand and told me. "Brad, call me if you want to talk. It may take me a while to return the call, sometimes I get a little out of contact, but I will call you back." He was one of those guys who could probably have been a rich businessman or lawyer, but instead did the dirty and miserable job of keeping us as safe as he could. I wanted to be him at that moment, he reminded me of Dad in a lot of ways. I hope we always have enough guys like Captain Jack. Chapter 2: Get The Background Out Of The Way Gram had taken us in when Mom and Dad went missing in Argentina. They were supposed to be on their twenty fifth anniversary trip, which Dad partially funded by doing some business down there for a few days. Then they were to be on their own for two whole weeks. Dad did consulting for business development and was putting together a deal to create a medical serves operation in the more remote areas of the region. I hear people bitch about HMOs here but according to Dad the people in these areas would view getting even half of what we did here as arrival in heaven. The things we take for granted become life and death for others. Dad was one of the good guys. Mom was a hospital manager, having worked her way up from being a duty nurse. They made a great team. Sandy was twenty, I was seventeen. One great thing about kids is they really tend to pull together when it hits the fan. Sandy and I had grown up with all the stages brother and sister have, disdain, disregard, anger, all laced with a constant undercurrent of sarcasm. That changes as you get older, especially when one of you moves out, which Sandy had done when she went to college. She has almost graduated when Mom was returned. She had put her life on hold and moved back in with Gram and I... At least five guys were heartbroken, as she had told them to get lost for a while and tended to Mom's recovery. Did I mention she was a total babe? Try growing up when your older sister is the best looking girl in town and the particular fantasy of all your friends. She was legendary and the subject of a lot of amateur photography. Only one guy had snuck a picture of her in the shower and I had pounded the crap out of him. She may be a pain in the ass but she was my sister. She was also valedictorian, prom queen and about perfect. Brad, that's me, I was another story. I was smart enough, but not the smartest. A bit of a loner, ran track, computer geek, kept to a small circle of friends. The same way ninety percent of kids can be described in high school. Lately, if some kid goes nuts and makes 24/7 cable news coverage, they are described that way as if it was a dread disease. All adults seem to forget that's how they were back in the day. I know for a fact they all were not homecoming queens or football captains. I was average height, wiry build, not great looking but not bad looking. The kind of looks a witness always describes to the cops on TV. He was, you know AVERAGE, kind of, officer. Gram was the best. She had stayed with me when Mom and Dad were going away, to protect me and the house from me. If I ever have a real nice house and a fifteen year old boy, I'd have someone like Gram there too. Not that I was stupid, but I'd done some stupid things, some of which ended up with expensive things broken. Again, I'm not alone in this, most of you have been fifteen already. Gram was Mom's Mom and had been a nurse herself. She had been a Navy nurse at Pearl Harbor when the bombs fell and had been shot at and saved lives in all kinds of really nasty places across the Pacific theatre of operations. I'd seen the pictures of Iwo Jima and Okinawa and the wounded. She had felt their blood spurting. I guess Captain Jack just sensed she had done her time in hell, like two championship athletes just sense one another without words. Gram had never left. She sold her house and just reported for another tour of duty, raising her daughter's son and daughter. Sandy had stayed at college, but we both needed Gram to hold us together through two years of not knowing what had happened. The State Department, Dad's Company, The Argentinean Ambassador had all expressed their concern but it became obvious they had no clue. Gram had even hired "Recovery Professionals" and they tried, got some maybe clues but still nada. Fortunately, Dad had provided a trust, which kept us afloat. Not well off, but just below the upper middle class. Money was not an issue, except being a teenager I never had enough. Gram kept me on a reasonably short leash financially but gave me a lot of room otherwise. She treated us like almost adults and did not condescend to us. As a result, we acted pretty grown up, most of the time. Plus, I can tell you, losing your parents at that age sobers you up. Life has come out and sucker punched you right in the face. I began to understand those refugee kids you see in the pictures. School life can seem very petty in contrast. Chapter 3: You Never Really Know Your Family Like I said, it had been six months. Mom did not seem to get much better. It was hard seeing her, distant and silent, a real contrast to the Mom who had raised me. She wasn't mute, she just didn't say much. She loved me, I knew that. That had not changed. She hugged me a lot. I spent hours, just sitting and holding her. Gram found a shrink who she either trusted or had threatened with a contract hit, probably both, knowing Gram. For being somewhere over seventy five, Gram acted not a day over forty and looked about sixty. A young sixty. Mom had seen the shrink for almost two months. It was early March and the weather sucked. I was just returning from school, on foot. I had my license, but no car, yet. Gram had taken out Mom's SUV and I was not allowed near Dad's Porsche. It is not a real good idea to let a seventeen year old boy access to a 911... Newton's Laws of Motion segue into Murphy's Law. Gram ran the Porsche just enough to keep the engine and bearings loose, like she had promised Dad. I was allowed to drive the SUV, just not everyday. Janet had walked with me, so there had been compensation. Oh, yeah, Janet. I haven't mentioned her yet. She was my girl friend, maybe on her way to girlfriend. A lot of high school girls would have dropped me like a hot rock, after appropriate sympathy; of course, since I had pretty much dropped out of a lot of social activities for the last two years and was totally gone the last six months being with Mom. Janet was far more evolved than that. She had hung with me through the whole time. The only reason she wasn't girlfriend instead of my friend who was a girl was that she was waiting until I was ready to put the two words into one. At least I think that's it. I sure had thought about it and had been about to make the appropriate ritual moves when Mom had come home. Janet told me to spend time with Mom or she'd never talk to me again, threatening words, which actually made me feel better. She was good to me. Gram and Sandy had been conferring and they were both smiling at me. Danger. Alarm Bells. Red Alert. I was no match dealing either with one of this pair and together they could tag team me into the canvas. Mom was off taking a nap. She had not been able to sleep more than three to four hours at a stretch during the ordeal and this was a great luxury. Sleep without someone hitting you with the butt of an AK-47. "Bradley, how are you? How's school?" Sandy said, so sweetly I knew I was being set up. Gram nodded and smiled. Crap, double smiles. I'm Doomed. "Fine. I just left Janet at the Prom Committee meeting. She's the leader." I replied. "Are you taking her?" asked Gram. "I hadn't planned on going. I'd rather be here." The conversation got predictable. They thought I should go. I should ask Janet before someone else did. Mom would want me to. I would never get another chance. My replies were the same. It's not that important. Girls place a much higher priority on it than boys. I will think about it. I agreed with them both I would decide in the next few days to be fair to Janet. It was two months away and she would need time to figure out her dress, shoes, just everything, they said. Okay, okay. Girls do have a lot more to do. I just had to get a tux and a haircut. Dinner, homework, sitting with Mom. That was the evening. She liked classical music, so that's what we did. I learned to like it. I feel sorry for people who only like one kind of music. It's like intentionally being color blind. You can see all the colors, you just choose not to. Mom turned to me and asked me about the prom. I told her I might go. She smiled and then got wistful. There was a flicker of light in her eyes. Then she looked sad. She said she had missed Sandy's prom. They had left before it was planned and she was supposed to be back in plenty of time to help Sandy with the preparations. She let a tear go. She had done a lot of things, but I had not seen her cry since she got back. I bet she had been cried out after a while in the jungle. Chapter 4: Nothing Says Lovin' Like Something From The Coven That night, I was mostly asleep in my room. I got half awake when I thought I heard the front door, but then I heard Gram talking to Sandy. They quite frequently got up in the middle of the night and talked for a while. It was no big deal. I thought I heard Janet's voice, but I assumed I was wrong. I went back to sleep. "Wake up, Brad." Sandy was shaking me awake. I woke up, holding the covers over me as I slept in the nude. There were Sandy and Gram, both wearing the same white nightgowns, hair down and barefoot, with full makeup on. Weird, but not too weird, when you just want to go back to sleep. "Bradley, I am going to ask you to do something which will require courage and fortitude. We think it is important for your Mother." Gram said. She was serious. I came to full awake mode. "You know I'll do whatever I have to for Mom, Gram." "I know that dear. But I want you to know this will not be easy for you. Now just listen for a while and then ask questions. I need you to understand this and you need to make your decision within the next half hour." Gram said. I was now really wondering what was going on. What could happen in the next half hour? Gram continued after I nodded. "The women in our family are gifted or cursed, whichever you want. We have some powers, which skip generations. I have them, Sandy has them. Your granddaughter may have them, when you have children. Assuming you are picked by the right wife." I remembered the 'are picked by' line later, much later. Gram went on. "The powers can alter people somewhat and people's perceptions and attitudes, but not on a large scale. When that's been tried, some of our ancestors got burned by the townspeople..." "Don't tell me you are witches." I blurted out. Gram held up her hand. "I said let me talk. It is a historical fact that women were burned and someone had to be their descendants. Call it what you want. We've had a lot of bad press and a lot of foolish people think it's fashionable to play at it. We cannot use the power except when it can help somebody in need and not at the expense of others. Sandy thinks we can alter the perception of reality just slightly and only with minimal disruption. Perhaps we can manipulate space-time as Albert used to call it, I do not know. I've seen a man levitate small objects without a single explanation, other than to label it 'paranormal'. I knew him quite well and he was not con man. He never made a nickel from it and shunned publicity. "So, here we are. Carolyn, your mother has been unresponsive to treatment. Someday she may tell us what happened but we do know she has been badly scarred in her spirit. Her body can heal, that's mostly done. Sandy and I have noticed she is holding onto the Prom she missed, the one Sandy attended. It is a symbol of what she has lost. We want to give her back that experience. We want you, with our help, to give her that experience." I thought. And then talked. "Fine. I'll go to the prom. She can help me pick my tux. She can help me pick a corsage for Janet. But that's not even close to what you say she missed. Sandy, as I remember it, she was even making your dress. She used to ask me to hold up material while she measured. She never got to finish that." Sandy smiled. She then said. "Brad. You are right. We want you to re- create what she would have done for me for your upcoming prom." Okay. This was off the weird scale. "Sandy, I love Mom, but this sounds like a bad TV show. You think she wants me to be a girl or a drag queen?" "No. We want you to be yourself, just with the world's perception a bit altered. Brandi replaces Brad. Brandi, a fine boy somewhat like yourself, wears dresses to the prom and everyone thinks it is fine. Mom will think it's fine and normal and enjoy herself. Brandi dates Janet and they go together. Gram and I will handle the world's perception. You have to act convincingly. Tell Mom you need help with all the stuff you need to do. That will be the truth; you will need a lot of help. Your job is to be the role and enjoy it. If you fake it, Mom will be able to tell. She can sense when her son is not genuine." I was stunned. Gram talked now. "Bradley, we need to give Carolyn something back. She's had so much taken from her. And this will cost you nothing in the long run. You might even learn a few things." I broke in. "So, you do your magic stuff and I wake up as Brandi, Mom gets me dressed and Janet and I go. I guess I can do this for a day. Does Janet go dressed like a guy?" "We would never do that to Janet, she will just find you stunning. I'm sure she will make sure your outfits will coordinate. But the prom process is not one night for the mother. It begins now." "Two months? I have to be this Brandi guy for two months?" I said. I was getting convinced that they had been doing heavy pharmaceuticals. But this was also Gram and she was no fool. "It will be a gradual transition, made to seem natural and help to ease you into the part. We will be there to help you along the way. Now will you do this? Please think it over, we'll come back in a bit." Gram said. She and Sandy kissed me on the forehead and left, closing my door. Chapter 5: The Things You Do For The Ones You Love My mind was in overdrive. It was a lot to digest, but you need to understand. These two could stare down a shark. They were tough minded. They would never joke about anything like this. Not with Mom involved. Some people might use my feelings of grief over Mom for fun, but not Sandy and not Gram. So they fully believed what they had said. The question was, did I? My next train of thought was, so what? It either was true or it wasn't. If it was a delusion on their part, then what was the difference? Just do it. Gram and even Sandy had always been there for me. If it was true, then maybe it would help Mom. I meant it when I said I would do anything. Case closed. So they came back in. Gram told me she was happy with my decision. Sandy kissed and hugged me. Gram gave me a last chance to back out. She was very even in her tone. "Bradley, I want you to know this will be as uncomfortable as you make it on yourself. A lot of what you need to do will go against your own self-image. If you fight it, you will fail to be convincing and your Mother will probably feel confused. This effort carries the risk of prolonging her situation. You must embrace the reality changes that come at you, go with them and enjoy them. I promise you no one will ridicule you. Except yourself. When it is all over, we will put it all back together. You will be fine and yourself again, but maybe a little wiser. Tell me again, do you commit to giving this your best?" The family value. My Dad and Mom had drilled into us that we should never do anything half-assed. It was ingrained in our brains. "Yes, Gram. Let's do it." Gram asked me if I was fully unclothed under the sheet. I said yes. Good, that was required. I was told to close my eyes and relax. Gram and Sandy would do some rituals and then Sandy would stay and Gram would go by Mom's side. All I had to do was keep my eyes closed and if sleep came, don't fight it. Then just get on with my life. I listened to Sandy and Gram whisper but could not make out what they said. My eyes were closed and the whispering kept getting quieter. Then it was just Sandy whispering in my ear. I still could not understand what she said. Then sleep came. Chapter 6: I'm Glad We Didn't Have To Do That Looking in the bathroom mirror my teeth seemed clean enough. It was coming back to me, the ridiculous dream from last night-Gram, Sandy, witchcraft. I shook it off. Sandy was banging on the door telling me to get out soon. Life seemed pretty normal. Downstairs Gram had out a platter of scrambled eggs and Mom was making toast. She seemed just a little more animated today. Maybe this was a good sign. Small steps and Mom would be back. I ate my eggs and had coffee with Mom. She told me to get with Janet and straighten out the prom situation, time was getting critical. She smiled. She told me Janet and I made a great couple and Gram agreed. The conversations from yesterday continued - I filed it in my head that way. I agreed to see Janet today at school. As I left for school with the precious keys to the SUV I heard Mom tell Gram she was going to spend the day getting her sewing room back into order. That was great, she was starting to get interested in her old hobbies. School was uneventful, except Janet pulled me aside at lunch and asked if I had a date for the prom yet. I told her no so she just said she would love to go with me. That was easy. Of course I agreed. Mom had seemed focused on it and it was the least I could do, plus I really did like Janet. It was time we started getting together. The Prom Committee had issued the theme, the calendar and the sub committees, which needed volunteers. The school was buzzing with who was asking who and so on. Janet told me she had put my name in for decorations. No problem. Hang some crepe; handle the ladders for the girls. As the day wore on, a few guys talked about who they might ask to the event. There was a lot of kidding back and forth, typical guy stuff. They didn't ask me, they already knew I was going with Janet. I was told that was great, Janet was a great girl. I never knew how much of a frenzy this was for the girls. I knew they worked themselves up with the matchmaking process, a microcosm of adult life, like much of high school. By the end of the day, girls I barely knew had come up to me, told me they heard I was going with Janet, gushed about what a lovely couple we were and asked me if I had figured out what I was going to do. I wasn't sure what they meant so I was vague, like 'I guess I'll start looking around'. That got giggles and grins and they all told me I was lucky and they were sure we would look great. It seemed like they thought I was making a joke. I dismissed it as girl dementia. I was giving Janet a ride home but I had to get the SUV back for Gram so we had little time. On the way she told me she was thinking of a dusty rose color scheme for her ensemble. I nodded and kept driving. She came back and said would I have any trouble coordinating? I said no, thinking how hard could it be to match a shirt on a tux to her dress. Janet laughed and said I was hopeless but we would look great together. She kissed me and got out at her house. When I came in it looked like a rerun of yesterday. Gram and Sandy talking and smiling at me. I had put all of last night firmly into the dream category. I was tempted to tell them about it, but it seemed so silly. Plus they had really good news. "Bradley, your mother has been on the phone with Janet's mother for half the day. She's been more outgoing than I've seen her since she got back." Gram said. This was great. I guessed they were talking about the prom. I realized then that Janet must have called it into the girl network within seconds. Sandy added, "They are working out the color scheme. I think they have a plan and I suggest you defer to them, Brad." "Why not? Let them have fun." I said. Sandy smiled. Mom was looking much better over dinner. She actually initiated conversations and went on about how it felt good to get back to sewing. She did ask me to stand up later and took measurements. She used to make lots of clothes, so this was hardly unusual. I remember being a kid and squirming when she used to do this, but it felt so good, like a fond old memory. This was the Mom I remembered. I was swamped with homework, having to finish a paper for Economics class, so I excused myself and went up to my PC. An hour later, Mom knocked. She entered, carrying a large book. "Bradley, do you have a minute? I'd like to ask your opinion on these." Mom said, looking cheerful. I told her sure, I needed a break anyway. She opened the huge book on the floor. It contained girl's formal dresses and sewing patterns available. Mom and Janet's mother had agreed to work together on some prom gowns and she wanted to look over some with me. My Mom had a reputation as a great clothesmaker. She could have been a top fashion designer, but she used to say it would lose all the pleasure if she did it for a living. Now normally, before her ordeal, I would have whined and tried to get out of it, but she was so happy and focused I sat on the floor of my room patiently looked over at least half of the designs which she had marked with paperclips. I even commented on how nice some would look on Janet. She sometimes agreed and sometimes gave me her opinion and why it might not be, like too frilly or not showing her figure correctly. She sat next to me and put her arm around me. I hugged her back. She went on a bit on which gowns might complement each other. I had never thought girls would worry about that but it made as much sense as anything else I knew about formal dress occasions, which was little to nothing. Mom kissed my cheek and got up. "Brad, I've taken up your homework time, I'll go now. Thanks for the help, I had fun." I felt good after she left. Maybe my dream had been telling me to just let my Mom enjoy my prom some and she could partially adopt Janet for the girly stuff. I just had to sit through it and act interested, which was easy as seeing her smile was great incentive. It was easier than crawling through broken glass and I would have done that to ease her pain. Sandy stopped by. She told me she was happy that Mom had focused in on the prom. "Good going, little brother. Just keep her happy." She said as she left. I felt great. Chapter 7: The Adventure Begins Morning again. Groggy but moving. Brain still in hibernate state. Lucky day, Sandy is leaving our bathroom. Water on face. Brain booting up. Look in mirror. Error. I was staring back, but it was me with three inches of hair growth on my head. I touched it. Still there. I also noticed I did not have to shave, not that I was a regular shaver yet, but I did need to at least twice a week (Okay maybe once a week I really needed to, but I did it twice a week). I looked down and realized I did not need to shave anywhere. Chest, back, legs all smooth with just a little under my arms. I opened the towel and saw my crotch still had hair. Then I looked up and in the mirror I saw a grinning Sandy behind me. I rapidly redid the towel. "What?" Was all I got out before she put her finger to her lips, indicating I should shut up. "Enjoying looking yourself over, Brandi?" Sandy said. It all came back. I had assumed it was a weird dream and now I was living it. "You and Gram were really there? Its all true?" I got out. "Yes. You were great yesterday but today it gets a little harder." Sandy said. She told me to shower and gave me bottles of both her shampoo and conditioner. Instructions followed on shampoo use, How long to leave in the conditioner. How to comb. Brush. Things to avoid. She said to meet me in my room and hurry I had to get ready for school. Showered, conditioned, deodorized and in my towel, my bare feet take me back to my room. Sandy is sitting on the edge of my bed wearing her nightgown, her long brown hair up in huge rollers. My room had changed. There is now a table with a mirror with lights around it. Another mirror on a stand, also with lights is on the tabletop, with an upright chair in front. "I'm going to help you today, but you need to do this stuff on autopilot and fast, so pay attention." Sandy said. "Just relax and go with this. Don't get all anxious. Mom is doing great already, so you need to focus on that. Now put these on and then I'll help you with your hair." She threw some white underwear and black socks at me. The underwear looked like an undershirt and shorts but it was different. The undershirt was sleeveless, like the old fashioned kind you saw in the movies, but was loose fitting rather than snug and only came down to exactly even with my waist. The material was smooth, kind of satiny. The shorts felt like women's panties but cut for a guy. Same satiny material and smooth all over. I could still pass a not to close inspection in a locker room. The socks were like regular men's nylon dress socks, thin and just a little transparent. They came up over my knee. I just got dressed. Go with the flow. Remain calm. Sandy had me sit on the chair in front of the mirror. She then showed me the right way to blow dry my hair, to add 'a little volume'. I wasn't that bad a student and she gave me some praise. The only problem with the finished result, other than it looked a bit too full to me, was the front, Three inches of hair hung past my eyebrows, even with some volume it was annoying. Sandy looked at me and told me to watch what she did. She pulled the bangs to each side and used some bobby pins, then some hairspray. It looked better. "Brandi, your hair is in that annoying state when you let it grow out, but this should work for now." Sandy said. I did notice the name she used but I let it slide. "Sis, this looks a little..." I started. "Too feminine? That's the plan. Now don't worry, Gram and I will handle it all. Just focus on Mom. You are her great son who she is going to help have a wonderful prom. Now things around you are going to change some, like I said, just go with it. Most of it won't hurt a bit and it's okay to enjoy it. In fact, you better enjoy it or this won't work. So now go into your closet and find the light blue shirt and navy blue pants outfit I have on a hanger. And bring out your dress shoes." My closet seemed bigger somehow. There seemed to be a few new shirts and pants. I was in too much of a hurry to examine the inventory. Along with the shirt and pants Sandy had put there I grabbed my dress shoes, which were plain black loafers, now gleaming like polished mirrors. The shirt was tailored just like a regular men's dress shirt and fit me just a touch towards looser than snug. It was silk and I got lots of warnings from Sandy about silk. The buttons were also fabric covered, something I had not noticed at first. At least it buttoned on my usual side. The pants were very tight and had only one pocket, non functional. They were comfortable, being some percentage of stretch (about 90% I theorized) and showed off every square millimeter of my butt. The front of my crotch was flattened, just like a new pair of jeans would do. I looked at my regular stuff, comb, keys, Swiss army knife, pen, wallet and realized I had no place to put it. Sandy produced a new bookpack, black leather and not too functionally dissimilar to my scuffed and worn old canvas one. Much more expensive with the name of a leather goods maker that even the fashion oblivious like me had heard of before. "Brandi, you will need to carry your regular things here. Just do it, as pockets are not part of your life for a while, okay?" I nodded. She added some new essentials, a hairbrush, some bobby pins and clips, a small hairspray, a pocket mirror. I hoped I could actually fit books in my bookpack while she started adding my new 'critical supplies', but she stopped at those few items. I looked at myself. Not that bad, Bod shows off well, maybe overcomes the foo foo hair. I normally wore more casual shirts and jeans to school. The girls used to dress down but nothing in women's fashion ever stays put. They had trended towards more fashionable looks over the last few years. I was ready to go downstairs and eat. Sandy had other ideas. "Brandi - I help you, you help me. Please help me with my hair." She guided me through taking out her rollers and combing out her hair into something a little more 'done' than her regular style. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders to mid back and I had somehow managed to have it come out wavier with a pronounced curl at the ends. With a lot of her patient help. A lot. Hairdressers all over the world must have relaxed. The kid's got potential but he'll never make it to the majors. No competition. Go with the flow. I was adding new skills I never planned on acquiring. Sandy mentioned to me to not eat my usual twenty pound breakfast as that shirt fit me perfectly right now. Go with the flow. Relax. Breathe. Starving for Mom. Good Cause. Down at breakfast Mom kissed me and told me I looked nice. Gram concurred saying she was glad to see the school kids were not dressing as much like slobs as they had been. I ate sparingly, as after a half a serving I could feel the shirt getting tighter. Sandy came down looking great. She was seeing some friends from college who were in town. "Sandy, you changed your hair. It looks really good." Mom said, smiling. "Brandi did the comb out for me. He did it better than I could alone." Sharon said, grinning at me. She had set me up. And called me Brandi again. Relax, breathe. "Bradley, you have some hidden talent. I'm glad you're growing yours out for the prom. Sandy owes you some help now." Mom's eyes brightened and I melted. She was coming back to us! "I already promised. I'm picking up some stuff for him on my way home, Mom." Sandy said sweetly. I wondered what that meant but I had to go. I was riding with Janet today. Chapter 8: Popular Dude Janet loved that my hair was growing out. She had all kinds of ideas I should try, mostly involving sets, lotions and implements of torture. She grabbed my butt on our way into school, some kind of primitive possession ritual. I got the message. The guys were oblivious. They were all there, in jeans and pullover shirts and acted like nothing was different. I got a lot of arm poking, 'Brandi's the man' stuff about going with Janet. One guy asked if I had gotten a haircut. I told him no, my sister had helped with it. They all nodded appreciatively at the mention of Sandy, whose very name still inspired awe in your average seventeen year old boy at that school. I was blessed. They were jealous. Brandi's the Man! The girls were friendlier, more open. They commented on my shirt. They liked the new bag. After one class two of them grabbed my arm and said my hair needed fixing. We went into the girl's restroom. Nobody acted like anything was wrong. I went to get out my brush but they beat me to it. A practiced quick draw, which would rival an experienced knife fighter. They had managed to put it back in order in less than twenty seconds. Damn, I was way slow on this stuff. They started to check their makeup and one asked if I had any mascara. Before I could answer, the other girl handed her a tube. Beat me to it. Not that I had any. At least I didn't think so. We left and went to our next classes. The teachers acted like nothing was different except the one who taught English Lit. She liked my shoes and asked where she could get a pair of flats like that. I found out that I needed to check my hair a lot more often. I had to fix the pins and reapply hairspray. Sandy was right; it was at that annoying stage. Gram and Sandy had made this easy. No hassles, every female seemed to want to help me, hell they treated me like one of them. I was still one of the guys. It was monumentally Weird. More homework that night. Mom showed me more gowns from the book. Apparently no actual decision is ever made the first time. Once you have winnowed down a list, things have a way of getting back on the list. I guess it's supposed to be so much fun, you just can't bear to finish the process. I began to realize she was making one for me, not just for Janet. I don't know how I missed that the last time. You hear what you assume. I got into it. Why not. It made her visibly happy and Sandy had told me to go with it. Two days later, my hair was between six and seven inches long when I got up. Sandy viewed this as some kind of milestone and pulled out a set of hot curlers. After a minor ordeal in which she had me do most of the work. I had what Sandy called a pageboy. To me it was a mass of curls hovering just at my shoulders. The undershirt had been replaced by what she called a camisole with thin straps and lace trim. The panties were a match. In white. Under a white silk shirt and off white pants. With a side zipper. Today she added a thin gold necklace she called a choker. Sheer black knee high socks and open toed sandals. White sandals of course. Sandy surveyed her work and pronounced it good. Mom and Gram were bubbly about my near total (I felt) girlification. Mom touched my bouncy hair and gave me a big hug. Janet liked the look and told me to be careful about the white outfit. She loved the camisole, which I then realized was totally visible through the shirt. Before we left my car, she had touched up my lips with her lipstick and then just handed it to me, saying she had another. The guys acted again like there was nothing strange. I became used to being called Brandi or Bran to my close friends. The girls always would make it a point to group around me when I entered a room. How did I feel? Weirded out. Relax. Breathe. Go With The Flow. I started using the girl's room for fixing my appearance, as they had mirrors and facilities, which were useful. Besides, side zippers make a urinal problematic. Plus, there were always girls there willing to help, equipped with every device, lotion and potion known to the world of beauty and fashion. I heard every bit of gossip about everybody. I even passed some on. Chapter 9: Lines Of Demarcation, Lines Of Hem Friday. Day four of Brandi. Sandy came in as usual and told me. "Brandi, I am impressed. You are ready for another hurdle. Gram told me you'd adapt, after all you are from our family. I was skeptical, but that's because older sisters are supposed to be. Today you shave your legs and wear a skirt to school." She looked at me for a reaction. I had seen this coming and knew she was goading me. If I had needed coaxing, she would have coaxed. It was no big deal. The girl's room, that had been hard to do. But all this stuff was offset every time I saw Mom. So she helped with the legs and the pits. Damn. Now I know what razor burn really is. The hair was just past shoulder length by a little and today I was told to let it rest from hot rollers. Just brush and a little conditioner. It was falling naturally now and I only needed hair clips if I wanted to keep it back. It still had quite a bit of curl left. New camisole, more like a short slip, Sandy said. Panties cut for men, Pantyhose cut for men, with a control top. Sandy told me she decided not to use a padded girdle yet. Silk blouse. My First Skirt. Pleats. Just above the knee. I tried to plead out on the shoes. "Sandy, let me get used to the skirt. Not the shoes too." Sandy was adamant. "Oh quit whining. These are low heels and you need to get used to them. It takes a while to get comfortable in heels." I asked her how long it took her. She laughed and said she'd tell me when it happened. Great. Just what I wanted to hear. I came downstairs, a little wobbly but getting the hang of the heels. Sandy had given me the basic 'Life In A Skirt 101', but I knew the behavior was far from automatic. Still, I persevered. To make the situation truly ironic, Sandy was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with sneakers. I wanted to strangle her. Mom and Gram were waiting downstairs with my breakfast of fruit and yogurt. Gram grinned but made no comment. Mom took a look and lit up. She praised me for taking the time to look ladylike. She was glad her son cared about his appearance. She was giving Sandy a subtle (not that subtle, really) shot. Sandy grinned at me and said she was jealous. The sheer insanity of this conversation was hard to take. But I kept a straight face and focused on not falling off the heels. Then it got worse. "Bradley (I had gone from Bradley/Brad to Bradley/Brandi.) are you wearing lipstick?" Mom asked. I was. Janet liked it on me and if I neglected to wear it, every girl in the school would be putting some on me. Like branding a steer. "Yes Mom. A lot of kids do at school." Lame, I know, but you are never creative and witty under stress. "Well, it looks a little lonely there. Sandy, do you have some mascara handy?" Mom asked. Sandy, smirking so hard I thought she would choke, quickly provided some and some eyeliner. Mom and Sandy now got into makeover mode. I was the crash test dummy, never asked an opinion but told to keep still. Gram gave advice from the sidelines. About fifteen minutes later Sandy, Mom and Gram are surveying the masterpiece. I look in the hall mirror. It is fairly subdued except for the eyes. My eyes looked about fifty percent bigger, with very pronounced lashes. At least the eye shadow wasn't overdone. I worried that there was no way I could maintain this at school without a lot more practice. "Okay, Sandy we've had our fun. Brandi you look gorgeous but it is a bit much for school. (actually it was less than most girls wore to school). Sandy, help your brother tone it down and stock his bag. He'll need some more essentials. " Mom was back, in charge in her old way. "Oh Brandi, I want to talk to you tonight about some things for the prom. We need to get busy. This weekend." Sandy dragged me upstairs to her room, closed the door and rolled on her bed laughing. At first I blushed, got angry, realized I was merely annoyed and then her laughter became contagious. I started to giggle, the joined her in laughter. "Brandi, you are the best sport I have ever seen. I love you, kid." Sandy hugged me. Now I got a short course in face painting, girl style. I had the lipstick thing down pretty well, I thought. "Christ, Brandi where did you learn to do your lips like that? You look like a such a tease!" Sandy said. I told her I had seen it in an old movie. "Fine, don't change. Just don't be surprised if some boys have to leave the room suddenly when you do that." Sandy said. "I know. I am a boy. But it feels like the right way to do it." I retorted. "I like your attitude girlfriend. Now let's get this done. First some foundation..." Sandy tried to keep it simple but there was no way as every component built on the preceding. Foundation, powder, eye shadow. All stuff she did on autopilot. She finally gave up and had me use just some mascara and lipstick. I was then instructed to practice every evening with all of options. My bag now got more stuff. I also realized I had to check my appearance regularly. I mean girl regularly, like every ten to fifteen minutes, not boy regularly of once a week. School was incredible. I was in almost total drag and still got treated like one of the guys. Try sitting on a locker room bench, refreshing your lipstick, working on not crossing your legs like a guy and having the other guys include you in the discussion of what's some girl might be like under her dress. Trust me girls, this is a high compliment. Seventeen year old boys view this discussion like discovering the New World. The world is not flat. Now, this was becoming difficult for me as I had seen what was under there (girls room, remember?) and I was one of the girls too. Both sides seemed to trust me to be discrete and only keep my gossip along same gender lines. I could talk about girls to girls, but not to boys. But I could listen to the boys but not disclose who was the fantasy of the week to the girls. I felt like an intersexual go between. Janet as usual was turned on by the outfit, enthusiastically so. We had a date that night, right after the prom committee meetings. But first I had to see Mom after school. Chapter 10: Mom's Excellent Prom Adventure While the week at school had gone by, Primary Mission was going to plan. Mom was on the job. She was lining up Moms and Dads to handle the finances, get discounts set up for tux rentals, limos, restaurants, hair, nail and dress establishments. The conspiracy of parents made sure the secret prom parties would be held at homes or locations, which met at least some minimal criteria. All this while designing at least two original dresses. And coaching her son into the secrets of beauty, woman style. With lots of help from Sandy and Gram. What amazed me was how a really smart and common sense practical woman could just accept the premise that her son just started to dress, act and in general look like a babe, with everyone accepting it as perfectly normal. I guess this version of reality was appealing to her right now. I hoped it was not this way forever, as these heels were killing me. Mom and I got to do a lot of mother-daughter (mother-son, dammit) stuff. Talking about hair, Janet, school, clothes. But it was now getting serious. Mom sat me down and she told me her plan. I was still in my skirt and was proud of myself for getting the sitting right. Now Mom did not just say, "Here's the plan, idiot. Any questions?" No, she said the same thing in a lot of words, which made me feel great. The net result was the same. Mother talk. I had figured out Mom believed I was new to all of this, the hair, makeup, clothes. That made it a whole lot easier. She was in mother mode, helping me along. The only way I could screw it up was to appear insincere about what I was doing. So I told myself to want to do this. I would Enjoy Being A Girl. Now the plan. Mom needed Janet and I to settle on close to final dress designs by the next two weeks, so she was taking us to several boutiques next weekend, to try on gowns. We were getting very serious. We could buy ones we liked or let her improve on the design. Next I needed to 'build a relationship with a hairdresser' so Mom had set up weekly appointments with one both she and Sandy agreed on. She wanted a majority rule on this issue and through some obscure clause in the girl rules, Gram did not get a vote on this one. Maybe she was senior league and could no longer play on that level. I bet they retired her number... I knew I really did not have a vote other than to pout, which was blindingly ineffectual with Mom. I knew that from being her son when younger and doubted a girl got any slacker. Then there was a surprise. Janet's parents had invited Mom and I to a sit down dinner. A week from Sunday. Not casual. Mom's tone on 'Not Casual' told me volumes, but I could only read half of them. I would ask Sandy later for translation. Oh yes and Sandra was invited too, as Janet's older brother was home for the weekend. Parent matchmaking. I happened to know Janet's older brother Bill was gay. Handsome, witty, a damn good quarterback and gay. Bill and Sandy were good friends. Bill did not deny being gay but his parents had a don't ask policy and Bill never pushed his preference in anyone's face. Now for the next discussion. Mom wanted to know what I wanted to do about my bustline. I got really embarrassed and turned several shades of red. Mom held me and said she could make the gown work any way I wanted. But did I want to emphasize my differences on Prom Night? Or did I want her to provide some help? (Translation - did I want to be pretty but flat chested or blend in and compete on looks with the girls. Take the game to them.) I finally figured out an answer. "I wonder what Janet would like?" I said. Mom had me. Apparently this had been gamed out and I assume Janet consulted. "Janet said she wants you to feel beautiful. So what do you think?" Mom returned my lob with an overhand smash. Back to me. "I just don't know. Let me talk it out for a while." I called time out. I had learned girls don't want to think things over, they talk things over. I had escaped temporarily. Mom was impressed. I was learning the rules. Next item. Easy one. Mom and I were going out window shopping two nights next week. Last item. Mom dropped this one, now the all important Boob issue was tabled. "Bradley, when you go out and try on gowns next week we need to help you with the fit on them. I can handle your figure when I make the dress but you will need some bodyshapers for trying on the ones off the rack. I've asked Sandy to take you out for these." Now, according to the rules, I had two choices. Plan A: Pout and complain about being called fat and get assurance and a hug or Plan B: just thank Mom and hug her. Tell her you'd been embarrassed to ask. Reinforce her Mom image. Plan B worked great. I was tied on style points. Prom committee was short. I had moved to the managerial ranks, the guys being the unskilled labor, given a role at the last second. I was now an honorary girl and part of the decisions on balloons, streamers and such. Advanced strategic concepts like color scheme and theme were the reserve of a select few girls, Janet being the leader. So my job was to round up the guys and get them where they were needed. I told them that job required more attraction than I had. They all laughed and told me I would have them kissing my feet. I guess I did know a few buttons to push with the guys. I now had one hour to eat something and get ready for a date with Janet. Fortunately I had Sandy. Sandy laughed at pairing up with Bill. She would enjoy it. "Bran, Mom's 'Not Casual' means really done up, but just short of formal. Dress to impress but not to seduce. I would say killer hair, nails, face and dress for a family dinner. We are going to make the family look good. I expect you and Mom will find 'a really pretty dress' while you are casually window shopping next week." She continued. "Mom actually asked for help on the hairdresser so I steered her to Sally at Dressed With Skill salon. I already talked to her and she'll be gentle. Just do not piss her off, but don't let her sell you on something you really don't want. You and I will go out on Thursday for the bodyshapers. I know just the place." "All that's fine, but what about..." I started but Sandy cut me off. "Your boobies? Okay now, forget Mom for a minute. Can you handle this? I mean it. I don't want you to get so freaked out it ruins your composure." Sandy went, really looking at me with some sympathy. "Oh, damn. What's the difference? Why look like 90% of a girl. I can handle some assistance in that area. Do whatever. Just let's not talk it to death, Okay?" I really didn't care anymore. Sandy gave me a hug and said she would handle it. They she helped me get ready. Makeup for date night. So, in my sprayed on jeans and top with spaghetti straps, three inch heels and pony tail I was ready for the movies. Sandy let me borrow a purse and a sweater. Janet picked me up and we had a great time. The movie was good too. Chapter 11: New Developments Monday morning. I woke up with breasts. Not big ones but they were there. Sandy was there in a flash. She really was concerned I would freak out but the cumulative effect of the last week had made this anti climactic. All I wanted to know was How Big Would They Get. And I wanted Sandy's assurance that no one would make fun of me. "Sandy, I had sort of assumed some falsies of some kind. These look pretty real. How can no one notice?" I said. My rollers were loose again, I must have added another inch during the night. And I noticed my nails were longer. Sandy had told me to let them grow, as nails were an important accessory to my overall look. "Well Brandi, my little brother, falsies are a pain and no fun. Plus this will give you the maximum flexibility in choosing clothes. How big would you like them? You're about an A cup now, on your way to B." Sandy said, relieved I was taking this so well. "How big would you say Janet was?" I grinned. "You are a nasty little bitch! Okay I have it on good authority that she may be a 38 C. You will be about a 42 fill in the blank." "What's the next size up, a D I assume?" I said. Why not. I was going to enjoy this. I might as well compete fully loaded. "You got it sister. Now this will take about two weeks and you are going to need some bras. I just happened to have a few with me. Also, the boys will be a bit in awe of you. They will still be friendly but will act like you might break if they touch you, like glass. Be gentle with them Promise me." Sandy was serious. "Okay, I already know all their buttons. It's an unfair advantage. I promise." I answered, seriously this time. Hair, nails, skin care, makeup. Bra, Panties, Pantyhose, Slip. Skirt and Blouse. And the damned heels. Check everything twice. Check purse, bookbag. It was the difference between throwing a balsa wood glider and launching a spacecraft. Sharon made sure my bra was somewhat outlined under my blouse. She loaned me a necklace and sprayed some perfume on me. I was ready for Mom. Mom made no comment. I knew she saw my new development, but she was cautious. Sandy had coached me earlier. "Mom, I need you to look at something." I said, actually trembling for the first time. I still worried I would be rejected as a freak. We went up to my room and I showed her my breasts. She held my hand and said all of her family had developed late and I was no exception. I would be fine. She would help out with letting out some of my blouses and shopping for new ones. She also told me I was her beautiful son and I would be a knockout. It felt wonderful. Mothers are among the most powerful forces in the known universe. She said we would go shopping tonight. My breasts became the talk of the school, some of it actually to my face. The girls were supportive and told me stories. The boys were my friends but I could already sense I would have to get used to them not making eye contact right away. Sandy decided I needed heel practice so it was to be skirts or dresses at least three days out of five during the week. Janet was starting to scare me. We had arrived at school separately and I ran into her outside between buildings. The wind was up that day and it was messing up our hair, so we got into a sheltered spot. She reached out and gently touched my breast with an extended finger. They were not large but obvious under my blouse encased in a bra. My nipples came to attention and it felt very strange. Janet broke into tears. She went on about how she had hoped I would finally develop in time for the prom. We were going to look fabulous together. I started to tear up myself. This girl really cared about me. Standing back from this scene it would seem very weird but through the emotional lens we were looking through, it was really happy. Mascara running happy. After we repaired each other's makeup we went on to class. Janet was talking about the surprise 'family' dinner we had been invited to, going on about how her parents just wanted to get to know us. Mom was a bit notorious and Gram had a reputation as that crazy old lady. I know Gram had carefully constructed that reputation and took great delight in inflicting it on the town. Janet's folks were really rich and while not stuffy, they were just cautious. I didn't hold it against them. They hadn't blackballed my family; they wanted to meet us, but formally, on their turf. All teams have to play away games. "Brandi, they really want to get to know you better." Janet went on. "They just want to make sure I'm not some gold digger trying to take their daughter." I joked. Janet laughed. "There's a little of that too. Also, our Moms are spending a lot of time together and I think they like each other. Dad isn't here much so he wants to size you up." "I was thinking of a trailer trash theme for what I would wear." I went on, tickling Janet in various places I had learned from my terrain mapping exercises in the back of the SUV. Janet giggled and could not contain herself. She thought that was funny as hell. She went on to describe what I could wear, how to do my hair, shoes to really look trashy. I got into the act and we were both having a great mutual joke. We were a great couple. Shopping with Mom was different. I felt like one of those intrepid explorers with the pith helmet, straining in every muscle through the trackless jungle. Mom, on the other hand was like the native guides. She could walk the explorer into the ground while balancing all the supplies on her head and grin a big grin while doing it. She was tireless. My feet hurt and she had even let me wear sneakers (as long as I had pantyhose on. We might try some things on). I think it was the fact that you could never be off duty while shopping for female clothes. You always had to be scanning the horizon for that perfect item, the elusive prey. And like a Tigress, once you had the prey, you devoured it into a shopping bag and kept scanning for the next one. Guys went shopping only when they had to and then for something specific. Find something in the general specification in the first store, bag it and go look at the girls in the mall. Scanning endlessly. And why do women shop for clothes endlessly? To give the guys something to scan. The universe is complex in its symmetry. I had begun to approach my situation as Project: Enjoy Being A Girl. In order to succeed in my Mission: Give Mom Something She Needs. I realized I would have to make everything ingrained into reflex. Checking Appearance. How Do I Look? Keep your hair and skirt out of car doors and other things. Make Up (books on that one. I just followed Keep It Simple) Hair (I actually was getting good at doing the styling. Sandy said I should consider it for a living, I was a natural) Skirt behavior. Eating. (Treating all foods as the natural enemy of your wardrobe) Doing anything with nails (I had resolved that mine were staying at a half inch or less). Bras. Bras were hard to get used to. Being honest, I think it was the contents. Protecting your chest required new reflexes, counter to the ones I had. It was the hardest thing to overcome. During our several shopping trips, I took endless treks examining dresses for Mom (She actually seemed to want to make me feel that my opinion of a dress on her was important. I guess it was, as she was going to be involved in the Chaperone and Parent's Committee events during the prom. So I got into it.) She got my ears pierced and had me pick several earrings. She was bubbly, my ears stung. But the gold hoops were nice. Sandy was right, we did mysteriously find 'a really pretty dress' for Sunday at Janet's house, silk, sleeveless, just above the knees. The skirt was well fitted and not loose and I did not quite fill the bust. Mom told me we'd give my figure a little help. I also got my first pearls. And several purses. And shoes. And we had a great time sitting over cappuccinos at various places. Mom was acting like a regular person, engaged with life. She was focused on something outside her pain and that was me. Chapter 12: Bend Me, Shape Me, Any Way You Want Me Thursday afternoon. I have been on the phone with Janet for a half an hour. She keeps dropping hints about coming along with Sandy and me for our shopping trip. I am embarrassed enough about going girdle shopping and I really wanted to keep the crowds and photographers to a minimum. I had not told Janet where we were going. I know Sandy has not talked as I actually threatened her (something like "If you tell anyone I won't ever forgive you!" Real tough) and begged her to keep this between us sisters. Sandy made a promise and you can bank on that. She would not reveal it under extreme torture or a lifetime of bad hair days. So I am in my room, applying a new coat of polish to my nails, down to my bra and panties with my hair up in a scrunchie, talking to my girlfriend, trying to find a nice way to ditch her for the evening. Janet starts laughing. "Brandi, you are so funny. There is no way I'd take my boyfriend along to the Body Shop. I'd take Bill, but he's special. I just wanted to see if you'd react the same way. I'm flattered. Go with Sandy, you'll have a great time. Love you, bye, got another call!" I said my byes and thought. The only way she knew was Mom told her Mom. I weighed the decision of whether to have a "Moootthhheerrr!!!" scene where the offended daughter takes her grievance out formally, in the proscribed ritualistic fashion. Usually the grievance is telling any other woman and therefore the entire known universe something personal and embarrassing. It was kind of like those medieval scenes where the peasants petition the King to stop trampling them into the ground as the King's Men ride through their village. The King ponders and then we know what kind of King he is. If he agrees to only trample the peasants on weekdays, the village rejoices. What a good King! If he has the petitioners beheaded and then trampled into the ground, the village rejoices. What a strong King we have! I decided that Mom deserved the whole Prom experience. I put on my nightgown, carefully as my nails were not fully dry and paddled downstairs to petition the Queen. Sandy was there, looking really good in a blue dress with patterned hose. Her hair was nicely done in her regular style and she had her daytime warpaint on. She had explained to me that "One Does Not Wear Pants Or Other Casual Clothes When Inside The Body Shop". She was waiting for me to get ready so we could leave. Mom and I performed the ritual. I actually had caught her and Mom was always gracious when she lost. She admitted she had talked about our plans today with Janet's mother, forgetting that with Janet and I as boyfriend /girlfriend it might be a little embarrassing. She said things today are complicated (Complicated? Crossdressing Boy- Girlfriend? Who would have thought it would be complicated?) and she was sorry. Could I ever forgive her? Like I wasn't going to forgive her. She was good. She had taken defeat and run it right up to the edge of victory by guilt. What A Good Queen We Have! I started laughing. Sandy joined in and Mom did too. Gram came in to see what the fuss was about. Sandy chased me upstairs to get ready. The Body Shop was one of those places which understood the need for social rules. One of the problems in modern society is we have abandoned in the name of personal convenience many of the things which put the little details of life into a common experience. My Dad used to talk about how, when airplane travel was considered a rare event it had an air of excitement and adventure. People dressed in suits and ties, dresses and hats just because they were on an airplane. It was a special experience. Now, people show up, are herded through and no one likes it. But nobody makes it special. People dress like slobs and act accordingly. He used to say we lost something. There are outposts of past civilizations, like the monasteries in the middle ages, keeping the old ways alive. They just want to exist honoring a way of life that is important to them. The Body Shop was an outpost of civility and style... They had unspoken rules. I'm sure some women in jeans have shown up and been served, but not ever with more than pity and no invitation to return. The shop thrived because they knew one essential fact. Most Women Love To Dress Up. And modern times have decreased the number of places and occasions which require dressing up. Dressing up requires a super majority of the participants always dress up, without question. If enough dress down, then you will commit the sin of Overdressing. Sandy brought me into the anteroom of the Body Shop. Our hair was perfect and she had made sure my face was up to her standards. She wore blue, I wore beige. I was now really good in my 3 inch stilettos, I had graduated to a full license. Sandy graded my road test and I was ready for the high speed lanes. We were greeted by an impeccably dressed woman named Melinda. She was somewhere between thirty and forty but presented herself towards to low end of that range. Do not get me wrong. The women at the Body Shop were not condescending or snooty. If you entered their world and made a sincere attempt to respect it, they were wonderful, friendly and delivered a great customer service experience. Just show respect. Not too hard to figure out. There was minimal display and comfortable chairs. There were catalogues of their p