“Matilda, your eggs are overcooked,” Grammy complained at the table. “And the bacon is terribly hard and oversalted; you could shine brass with it. And the toast-”

“Dear mother-in-law, could you give me a hand then?” Mum asked with as much passive-aggressiveness as humanly possible. “Surely I could afford to learn a thing or two from my elders.”

“Never before have I ever lodged and been expected to cook for my hosts,” Grammy scoffed, getting up and pushing Mum aside to take the frying pan. “But if I have to show you how it’s done…”

“Say, boy,” Dad whispered to me. “Which one do you think is going to reach for the butcher knife first?”

“Mum,” I said confidently.

“Matilda’s a fighter, but my mum has more experience.”

“Honey, dear, you hardly chopped the sausage into enough pieces,” Grammy criticized. “You need to cut it more so it looks thoroughly.”

“Let me do that,” Mum smiled, grabbing the cleaver and chopping the sausage so crazily that Grammy actually backed off.

“I’m… going to go finish my breakfast…” As she sat back down, Grammy whispered to Dad. “I see why you only had one child.”

My grandparents left just after lunch, and we probably celebrated their departure more than Christmas itself. After being with them for only a day, seeing them off was enough of a gift for everyone. I was personally soaking up my alone time in my room laying in bed, munching on more of my snacks. All of a sudden, I heard a commotion downstairs and crept around the house to try and see what all the shouting was about.

“Mark, you are not going out for a drink on Christmas,” frowned Mum, grossing her arms. “Your family is right here.”

“After the day I’ve had with Mum and Dad, I need a drink,” he groaned, grabbing his coat off the rack.

“There’s a movement to get rid of alcohol, you know. You might not have that someday and you’ll have to face your feelings like the rest of us,” she warned. “I heard there’s a coalition of women in Ohio advocating for the closing of bars and stopping alcohol production.”

“Why the Hell are women allergic to the pleasures of life?” Dad mumbled, slipping on his coat and marching out the door.

“Are you going to go get him?” I asked.

“Not this time,” Mum shook her head, turning her nose up. “If he doesn’t want to listen to me, he can do what he wishes and suffer the consequences.”

“I guess we’re eating dinner on our own then?”

“Most likely,” she sighed. “I’ve got a gift for you though.”

“Hm? You already did though. You gave me a new metal lunchbox.”

“That was just the gift I wanted your father to see,” Mum chuckled, walking to the stairs. “I was waiting until we were in private to give you the real gift. I’ll be right back.”

As Mum disappeared upstairs, I wondered what she could’ve gotten me. It’s not like I actually needed much. There wasn’t a point in having a lot of dresses since I could only hide so many of them. Maybe she was going to teach me some beauty techniques? Honestly, I was stumped. Soon enough though, Mum came back down with a wide smile and a large bundled cloth kept together by twine.

“What’re you so excited for?” I giggled. “And what do you have there?”

“Go ahead and unwrap it,” he beckoned, handing the gift to me.

I unfolded the twine-tied cloth and was confused by what was inside. It looked like some kind of specially modified girdle. Extra padding had been sewn in to have compression around the groin area.

“You made me… a girdle?”

“It doesn’t really have a name, but I tried making special undergarments like a woman’s, since you said that sometimes your… um, you know, thing gets in the way of fully enjoying the dress, or letting it fit comfortably,” Mum explained. “So this should be able to compress what’s there, hopefully without discomfort, so that you don’t have to worry about it getting in the way.”

Honestly, I didn’t know how to react to opening that. Actual tucking underwear wouldn’t be invented for a long time, so Mum was really ahead of the curve on that one. At first, I wasn’t sure what to think. My big question was really how in the world she tested its effectiveness…

On one hand, it was super sweet, thoughtful, and I could tell she had to really work to get the measurements right, though on the other hand, I knew that if I put on the undergarment, there was no going back. The dress was a monumental turning point, but this level of comfort was going to cement my dedication to chasing that this was who I am. So naturally, I immediately went to my room to try it on.

“Honey, does it fit?” Mum asked from the other side of my door. “I can modify it if it’s too small or big.”

“It’s… It feels perfect…” I whispered, looking in the mirror and letting a tear roll down my cheek. My hand glided over my body and it just felt… smooth. It’s like something I hated so much about myself was just gone.

“I’m glad you love it, honey,” Mum giggled. “If you want to put the dress on, maybe we can go out together.”

“Are you sure?” I asked nervously.

“It’s Christmas, honey,” she insisted. “Think of it as just trying out your gift. Plus, I’m sure the establishments that are still open will be more than willing to give free gifts to a pretty little maiden.”

“Fine, fine,” I laughed. “Just give me time to change.”

*   *   *   *   *

Mum and I arrived at a bar near the edge of the city full of mostly higher class people sitting around and chatting. Their whole “high society” attitude made them live away from us common folks, so you had to go out of your way to even eat in the same room as them. Unless they’re like The Hawthorne’s who still live in the thick of the city and don’t quite think themselves above everyone. Even then, you can catch them in places like these.

Like I said though, the saloon was full of high society members, with a small group of men and women around a honky-tonk piano in the corner trying to impress each other with scraps of lackluster music knowledge. Even the bartender was dressed to demand respect, and the owner was seated at a large table where about a dozen men were playing cards and betting half a year’s worth of my pay. The whole place intimidated me with how fancy and high brow it seemed for just a bar.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go somewhere else?” I whispered to Mum, clutching the sides of my dress. “This place kind of scares me…”

“You wanted somewhere your Dad wouldn’t end up,” she whispered back. “And your father hates these establishments made for the higher class.”

“True… But so do I.”

“Come on, honey. Just stick by me and let’s enjoy the change of company.”

“Alright…”

I clung to Mum’s side as she guided me through the bar. Everyone there was far too fancy for us to know, so we didn’t talk to anyone and just sat down in the corner near the piano. Either I didn’t have an ear for music, or rich people can’t play the piano. It was actually so bad that I was just going to ask to go home until someone else beat me to the punch.

“You lot are God awful at pressing those keys!” a woman cackled from across the bar. “Get off the piano!”

“I’ll have you know some people pay me to play!” the man shouted back with a heated red face.

“I’ll pay you to stop!”

The heckling woman stood up and revealed herself to everybody. It was her. Beatrice Hawthorne in the flesh. Although, “in the bone” would be more accurate because of how many of them you could see from the exposed collarbones her dress flashed. The fact that she could support the snake wrapped around her body was a miraculous feat to me. Her sadistic snarl towards the men made her intentions crystal clear: humiliation.

“Let me at the piano,” she demanded. “I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

She literally pushed the man off of the bench and slammed her fingers on the piano. The woman brushed dust off the keys, drawing everyone’s eyes as she very shamelessly began playing as loudly as humanly possible on that wooden box. The entire bar was captivated by this woman playing Beetoven’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, and not in a good way. Her piano wasn’t bad. Actually, it would’ve been quite beautiful if she wasn’t nearly breaking a piano to play it.

“Beatrice, Beatrice!” shouted her brother, Reginald. His attempts to catch her attention fell on deaf ears though, and he had to grab her by the arm to make her stop. “Sister, you should pick a more… delicate song.”

“Trust me, brother, it’s not the music that offends,” she scoffed. “It’s the audience.”

“You play Moonlight Sonata quite beautifully,” he offered. “Perhaps you could entertain them with that.”

“Or you could not play at all,” a man mumbled.

“How dare you?!” Beatrice screeched, jumping to her feet and pointing to the critic. “I am classically trained by piano masters!”

“Sister, sister, let’s take a walk,” Reginald suggested, guiding her shoulders out of the building. Before she quite made it out, she managed to look my way and shoot a glare at me.

“Yeah, keep staring, harlot,” the woman hissed. “I look better than you ever could.”

With that, the Hawthorne siblings walked out and left everyone to go back to their prior activities. Forgive me if my Christmas spirit might’ve been a little dampened after that episode, but all going out did was increase my stress levels.

“Hey Mum… can we go home now?”

“I… I think that’s best,” she agreed.

On our way back home, we passed by the bakery again, and I felt this impulse inside me. I felt the need to get something for myself. I knew we had food at home, but… I needed something just for myself that I could keep, even if I wasn’t going to eat it right now.

“Hey Mum, you can go ahead to the house,” I offered. “I’m just going to walk around town for an extra minute.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe on your own? It’s dangerous out at night for women.”

“I’ll be fine,” I reassured. “I won’t be far behind.”

After about a minute of convincing, I managed to get her to go ahead of me back home, which left me the opportunity to grab as many sweets from the bakery as I could buy with the money I had shoved into my chest padding before we left, plus the extra the baker threw in from me laying on the charm.

When I got home, I pretty much went straight to my room and told Mum I was turning it in for the day. It kind of made me sad to take off the special undergarments, but it was getting hot, and I wasn’t going to last much longer. Even after blowing out my candle though, I still couldn’t get to sleep. Instead, I pulled out all the food I had been saving up all day.

“Gosh, what am I doing…?” I whispered to myself.

I still couldn’t help but let myself unfurl in front of the food. I went through piece after piece. Pastries, candy, even spare leftovers from downstairs. The best way I could describe it was just a complete lack of control, and it was control that I willingly gave up. Life was just so stressful, everyone was just closing in on me so much, and I felt so out of control of my entire life that for once, I wanted to be the one in charge and make the decision to be out of control. It was a bit dumb and backwards, I know, but nobody was going to be there to tell me that, and it was my only natural way to cope that I could muster, and I didn’t know just how much it would hurt me in the end…

*   *   *   *   *

Months later, life wasn’t much better for me. Going on food binges was a semi-regular thing that would happen every other night or so. I was aware of what it was doing to me. I always looked tired, I stopped going out with Mum in my dress, and I just didn’t want to do anything. Dad’s berating only got worse on top of it since I was doing less than ever and just wanted to lay in bed as soon as I got home. Since I was always buying food for my binges too, my personal money was starting to get tight and I had to ask Mrs. Lada for an advance in pay once or twice.

“Adam, boy, what’s on your mind?” my boss asked after she flipped the sign to the closed side. “You haven’t looked right these past few months.”

“I haven’t felt quite right either,” I admitted. “I feel pretty lost right now.”

“Have you tried reaching out to religion?”

“I’m not the religious type, ma’am.”

“Then find another way to get it together, boy,” she scolded. “I run a candy store. If customers walk in and see a depressing frown, they’ll be driven off.”

“Sorry…” I apologized. “I’m working on it…”

“Work on it faster,” she commented. “Bad attitudes make bad businesses.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Lock up when you leave,” Mrs. Lada asked, gathering her things. “And I expect an attitude change tomorrow.”

“It will be.”

“Good,” she nodded sternly. “Take care and don’t take too much candy.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You too.”

When she left, I gathered some candy and walked back home. I really couldn’t stand to look at my reflection in the shiny rain puddles on my way. Ever since I looked in the mirror and saw a woman staring back, my regular reflection was just disgusting to me. When I walked through my front door, I must’ve looked particularly troubled.

“Dear, are you alright?” Mum asked with a frown. “How was work?”

“I’m… I’ll be in my room,” I sighed, dashing up the stairs before I could be asked to explain myself.

I needed something to make me feel better. I wanted to feel pretty and beautiful, so I took out the dress that I hadn’t put on in at least a month out of complete depression. Maybe if I just put it on one more time, I wouldn’t feel so depressed… So I stripped down, pulled the petticoat on, and…

“Oh… Oh shit…”

The corset wouldn’t fit me anymore, no matter how hard I tried to pull it in. I was just simply too big from months of food binging. I started sobbing on the spot and plopped myself down on my bed. All my feelings just boiled over in an ugly mess. Soon, Mum came rushing to my room in a panic only for her face to soften at my pitiful sight.

“It… It won’t fit…” I cried, holding the dress up. “I’m too big…”

“Oh honey, I can always tailor it for you. There’s no shame in-”

“I’m just not beautiful,” I continued to sob. “I’m nothing like a woman until I put on a dress, and when I take it off, I’m just a pathetic man!”

“Dear, you’re every ounce a woman that I am,” Mum said firmly. “You are beautiful.”

“I don’t feel like it…”

“But I can see it. Here, give me the dress and I’ll tailor it for you.”

“Okay…” I sniffled.

“Listen to me, sweetie,” she whispered, giving my forehead a kiss. “You are the daughter I always wanted. Don’t forget that.”

“T-Thanks, Mum,” I mumbled, letting her take the dress away. It was a low point, but it wouldn’t be long until my life sank even lower.