I stared at myself in the large full length mirror that dominated one wall of the Nursery. There was no need to think anymore -- shoes tightly together, perfectly aligned, the outermost hem of my absurdly short dress held daintily between the thumb and finger pocket of the lacey pink quilted satin mittens I was in. This pair allowed me to grip, unlike some of the other handwear I wore. I had to stare unmovingly at myself, my lips suc-king rythmically, until Auntie Dearwest or Governess instructed otherwise. As I gazed in horror at my outfit, I thought back to that fateful day one year ago, and once again heard Auntie Dearwest's voice fill every crevice of my head.
"Tell Auntie that you want to wear pwetty dainty frilly dresses every day cupcake, hmmmmmmmm?
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm"
I could still feel that fateful "yes" escape my lips as I spasmed creamies into my diaper. As I stared at my latest humiliating costume, I could only think in disbelief how embarassed I had been by those first dresses. I would give anything to be back in something that simple. The layers that encased me now could only remind me how badly I had underestimated the inestimable Mrs. Fairchild.
I had even made the mistake of having a full blow temper tantrum about it at a point that i was too stupid to realize was very early on in the process. Aunty Dearwest had buckled me into my babyreins for the first time and was explaining to me how i would have to prance daintily in front of Her so the bells would "jingle prettily" and the blood was throbbing so hotly in my ears, that i literally stamped my foot and started squealing "Why should I!!!!!!! It's not like you can make my dresses any more babyish or sissyish!!!!!!!!!! Aunty never became the slightest bit perturbed, as She held the pink leather leash in Her gloved hand, and watched with amusement. Her lips broadened into a wide smile. "Hmmmmmm is that so pwincess pwettykins? We shall just have to see about that, won't we?" What i didn't know was that Aunty was filming me on that ocassion, and i'd seen that clip countless times since --- almost every time Aunty Dearwest unveiled my newest embarassing confection. There i was stamping and screeching like the most clueless 2 year old in the world, and then Aunty's silky voice would come from off screen, "Hmmmmmm is that so pwincess pwettykins? We shall just have to see about that, won't we?" When Aunty made special DVDs for him to watch, She sometimes inserted the clip between shows, like a commercial, often more than once. It never seemed to cease amusing Her.
He could remember sitting on the floor next to the couch inches from Aunty's gleaming black patent leather riding boots, in which he could see a fun-house distorted reflection of himself. He was sitting with his legs splayed straight out, his skirts and petticoats bunched up high in a ridiculous mountain that pressed up against him almost obscuring his vision. He clutched a large pink teddy bear in one arm and suc-ked his binky num-nums. Aunty's seamstress was sitting in the armchair nearby taking notes.
"I want you to push the envelope. I want the last dress you made to seem positively simple, plain and boyish compared to what you create now. I want you to keep certain words in mind when you design it -- Extreme. Outrageous. Exaggerated. Fussy. The more flouncy, frilly, and beribboned the better. Make it bizarre, cartoonish, larger than life. But always as sissyish and babyish as possible. Let me show you something darling," Here she picked up the remote and pushed play, and the TV sprang to life and my temper tantrum voice filled the air, issuing my defiant ultimatum in my whiny overwrought voice. My face flushed to its deepest shade of red as I hugged the teddy tighter and suc-ked more vigorously, not daring to look up. But Aunty Dearwest's perfectly manicured forefinger came down and pressed underneath my chin, lifting my face so my moist fluttering eyes had to lock on her triumphant face. She continued to speak to the seamstress but kept her eyes locked on mine.
"See darling, little pwincess pwettykins doesn't think you can make her dresses and bonnets and petticoats and anklets and pantaloons any more sissy or babyish. But I think you can. What do you think?"
I could hear Mrs. Perkins laughing long and loud.
"Oh I think I may be able to accomodate you Mrs. Fairchild. I've been working on some new designs I think you are going to find very interesting!"
They both laughed, and my diaper imprisoned stiffy began to jerk and shoot creamies uncontrollably, as I shook spasmadically. Aunty Dearwest pinched my tear-stained cheek as she and the seamstress laughed and laughed.