Braids and Beyond--part17Braids and Beyond--part17
Username: sissycaroline , Sep/20/2005 20:48:51 [-04]
      Friday morning, 9AM. I woke with a cold, wet, soggy feeling in the front 
      of my diapers and a sticky, mushy feeling in the seat of them. The room 
      smelled of poop. I realized I had messed my diapers in my sleep. What's 
      become of me, I wet and pooped my diapers in my sleep, I thought. I 
      started to sob. Moments later, mom knocked on the door and entered. The 
      smell immediately told her what I had done. "Why so sad, sweetheart?" she 
      asked, as she saw my tears. "Mommy, I wet and pooped in my sleep. I didn't 
      even know I did it!" I cried. "Don't cry Caroline, that's what little baby 
      girls do." she tried to comfort. "But I'm a thirteen year old BOY!" I 
      responded. "Hush, Pumpkin. Crawl downstairs and get cleaned up and I'll 
      have you in clean didees in no time." I crawled and cried, fearing I was 
      losing control of my bodily functions. A half hour later, I found myself 
      freshly diapered and pantied and seated in front of the vanity table 
      mirror in my mom's room. "I'll do your hair and makeup for you today, 
      Missy." she said. Removing my rollers, she added "We'll leave your hair 
      loose today. (Great, I thought, no dangling appendages hanging from my 
      head today!) You have an eleven o'clock appointment at my beauty parlor 
      this morning to have your hair done for Ellie's birthday party tomorrow." 
      How humiliating I thought and moaned, "Oh mommy, please no!" and I started 
      to cry. "Oh stop it Caroline. Little girls love to get their hair done 
      extra prettily for special occasions. You'll enjoy it and you'll get a 
      professional manicure and pedicure too, you lucky little girl!" she 
      chimed. "I want you to be extra pretty for tomorrow." she whispered into 
      my ear. She simply brushed my loose hair and tied a huge lavender ribbon 
      bow at the top in the back. She did my makeup and lipstick but nothing to 
      my nails. Before dressing me, she inspected my entire body for hair growth 
      and was pleased to discover none. "Still as smooth as a baby's bottom." 
      she laughed. My lavender sun dress and petticoat was next, followed by 
      matching anklets and my black patent leather Maryjanes. Into the kitchen 
      for a quick breakfast we went, and then out the door to the car. I so did 
      not want to go to the beauty parlor and sobbed all the way there. As we 
      entered the beauty parlor, I was immediately struck by all the feminine 
      smells of the place--hairspray, nail polish, perfume and a "rotten eggs" 
      chemical smell that seemed familiar. I remembered the smell from when I 
      was a very little boy watching my mother give Ellie a home permanent. Sure 
      enough, in the corner salon chair sat a girl of about my age with a large 
      pink, plastic cape covering almost her entire body. Head hung low, she was 
      crying uncontrollably as the stylist tightly wound small, pink plastic, 
      paper covered rods into her blond hair while another stylist squeezed 
      pungent lotion onto them. As mom and I passed her, heading for the 
      receptionist, she glanced up briefly through her tears, and seemed to 
      recognize me. Just as quickly, she turned her head back down. She looked 
      vaguely familiar to me but I really didn't recognize her, though. "This is 
      my sissy son Caroline, he has an eleven o'clock hair and manicure/pedicure 
      appointment." she told the receptionist. "Oh yes mam, we're expecting you. 
      But I must say, we weren't expecting Caroline to be a BOY!" she replied. 
      "Oh well, no matter, he surely isn't the first boy we've had here and he 
      certainly won't be the last! With such beautiful, girlish hair, I can see 
      why you have him in dresses." she added. She directed us to a styling 
      chair in the center of the parlor. The customers, women and girls, giggled 
      and pointed as we passed by. When I was seated, a gorgeous young woman, 
      about twenty I'd guess, approached us and said to my mother, "I'll be 
      styling your daughter's--oh, ah--son's--oh, ah---CAROLINE'S hair." I was 
      crimson with embarrassment. "How would you like it to be done?" she asked. 
      "I'd like it pulled back behind his ears, with a cascade of luxurious, 
      soft, bouncy, full curls hanging down in the back to his neck. Please keep 
      his bangs." she described. "Do you mean, like large sausage curls in 
      back?" the stylist asked. "Yes, that would be perfect. He's going to his 
      sister's birthday party tomorrow and I want him to look his little girlish 
      best!" mom grinned. "No problem mam, he'll be as pretty as a picture when 
      I'm done." she said as she draped a pink cape around me. Mom sat down to 
      wait and watch. The young woman washed and conditioned my hair, towel 
      dried and blow dried it, and then applied a generous amount of styling 
      gel. As she started winding curlers into my hair, I decided to "break the 
      ice" and speak to her. "Why is that girl (who was now under a hair dryer) 
      getting the permanent crying so much?" I asked. Kind of a dumb question, I 
      realized, as I'd be crying mightily if I were getting one, I thought. She 
      laughed and replied, "You two have something in common. Like you sissy, 
      she's no GIRL! She's a boy named Eric who was caught shop lifting at Kmart 
      the week before last, and a sissy perm is his mother's form of punishment. 
      When he leaves here, he'll be sporting a head full of blond ringlets and 
      sausage curls. He'll look like Shirley Temple, from the head down at 
      least." she giggled. It was then that it hit me. SHE was Eric Gardner, a 
      boy in my grade at school. But I knew him best, actually, from church. He 
      had been in church, with his mother, last Sunday when I had "debuted" my 
      braids to the world. And his mother had spoken to my mother, in private, 
      after the service. My thoughts were suddenly broken by the scolding voice 
      of the hair stylist, "Better be an ever so good little girl, Pansy, or 
      you'll be on the receiving end of a Shirley Temple permanent next visit!" 
      Ten minutes later, with my curlers wound, I was seated under the hair 
      dryer next to Eric. We didn't try to speak, but just exchanged sorrowful 
      glances at each other. His perm was finished before I was done under the 
      dryer and I watched as Mrs. Gardner held him by his hand and walked him to 
      the door, with a waterfall of shameful tears pouring down his bright red 
      face. His glistening ringlets and sausage curls bounced and bobbed as his 
      mother dragged him into the street. He did look like Shirley Temple, if it 
      weren't for his boy's clothes. "Misery loves company." I thought to 
      myself. When my hair was dried, it was combed and styled and my lavender 
      ribbon bow was tied to the top of my head in the back and I was off to 
      have my manicure and pedicure. With that completed, I was glad to be on my 
      way out of this haven of femininity. "He's adorable! Thank you so much." 
      mom gushed, as she paid the receptionist and tipped the stylists. "Please 
      come again soon, there's so much we could do with his lovely, girlish 
      hair!" called the receptionist. I cringed at her words, fearing I could 
      well be back here sometime. The customers laughed and jeered and applauded 
      as my mother and her "pretty, girly boy" son left the beauty parlor. My 
      sausage curls bounced and tickled the back of my neck as we walked to the 
      car. At least, they weren't permanent, like Eric's, I thought. By the time 
      we got home, Ellie was up and dressed and was making lunch. She couldn't 
      believe how pretty my hair looked. "I can't wait until tomorrow, for my 
      party, so everyone can see his pretty new hairdo!" she exclaimed. I 
      certainly could wait! We ate lunch, as Ellie went on and on about how 
      pretty I looked in curls. The rest of the day and night was fairly 
      uneventful, thankfully. Mom and Ellie made preparations for tomorrow's 
      party. After dinner, I needed a diaper change as I had wet myself (of 
      course, after asking the proper permission). I watched a little television 
      and at ten o'clock, I asked to go to bed. "Good idea, Caroline. You have a 
      big day tomorrow!" mom grinned. I so hated that grin. I was already 
      cleanly diapered and only needed to wash off my makeup and lipstick and 
      brush my teeth. With that done, as I crawled toward my bedroom, mom 
      called, "Stop sissy Caroline! Go into my room and sit in front of the 
      mirror." Mom then rollered only my sausage curls and sprayed them lightly 
      with hairspray. "We want them perfect for tomorrow, sweetie." And off to 
      bed I crawled. I fell asleep wondering about Eric Gardner and Shirley 
      Temple.