Not all interventions with problem boys resulted in long-term confinement to dresses and skirts. Occasionally a targeted approach was sufficient. Like when Laurence Taylor kept teasing his little sister about the embarrassing peach flower girl’s dress she was going to have to wear to their cousin’s wedding. The eight-year-old Clara was a bit of a tomboy and hadn’t even worn a skirt in years.
Eventually their mother got tired of his taunts during Clara’s fittings for the flower girl dress and went to Mrs Henley having heard a little bit about what was going on around the town.
Mrs Henley was able to work with the bridal hire shop to let Clara’s dress out so that it could fit 12-year-old Laurence and they pounced on him the morning of the wedding. The four bridesmaids didn’t have too much difficulty getting him into the dress and doing up the tiny buttons at the back though it was a little trickier getting him into the white lacey tights without ripping them.
While it had been easy to let out the dress, it wasn’t possible to make it any longer given the attached layers of petticoats so it only barely covered his bottom. They had fortunately predicted this issue and the bridal shop had been very helpful in having matching panties made from the same peach material with lots of frills in the same lace as trimmed the puffed sleeves.
Laurence was pushed into the back of a car and driven to the beauty shop where, alongside two proper little flower girls, his hair was arranged with complex twists of white ribbons, his face made-up with rosey cheeks and his nails painted a sparkly peach.
Decanted from the car at the church, before he’d even managed to push down his petticoats, lots of photos had been taken and he really had no choice but to go along with it. Where was he going to run to in his short petticoated flower girl’s dress?
His fellow flower girls, four-year-old twin cousins, were particularly amused by his matching frilly panties which Laurence found it impossible to conceal in the mild breeze that blew around the tall church. With his long legs in lace tights exposed below his short dress, e looked even sissier then they did!
His mother told him if he didn’t smile for the photos then he’d find himself in dresses for the next week. He was mortified posing for an endless series of photos clutching a little bouquet of flowers. It was bad enough being photographed in the sissy flower girl’s dress but having to smile and look like he was happy about it was mortifying and he just knew these photos would be trotted out whenever his mother wanted to put him in his place.
He cringed as he walked slowly down the aisle distributing rose petals from a basket in front of the bride. He wanted to hold his petticoats down to avoid any embarrassing flashes of his peach frilly panties as they rocked but both hands were occupied.
When he got to the altar the maid of honour indicated to him that he should put the basket down. As he did so there was a burst of laughter behind and a few flashes from cameras. He straightened up as quickly as he could pushing his petticoats down at the back with his now-free hands but clearly it was too late.
It was a hot day and he was getting very sweaty under his tights and layers of petticoats. When he sat at the top table at the reception, one of the bridesmaids noticed his predicament. She discretely told him that he could take advantage of his legs being tucked under the tablecloth to ventilate a little.
He thought it was a good idea and hitched up his petticoats under the table and flapped his legs apart and from side to side to get as much air as possible up under his skirts. It was a relief. He continued for several minutes until a waitress leaned in and said “you do realise that the table cloth does not go down over the front of the table. Laurence froze. He saw the grinning faces at the table facing theirs and quickly pushed his legs together and lowered his petticoats again. He could feel his face burning.
After the meal, the bridesmaids and other flower girls all changed into other clothes. “Sorry we didn’t think of bringing a change of clothes for you”, his mother tittered. He glared at Clara in her smart slacks. He was now the only one left wearing a frilly wedding outfit.
The bridesmaids insisted on making him dance when the music started. They particularly enjoyed ‘The Hokey Pokey”. His hands were firmly held by a bridesmaid on either side. At each “Oh do the hokey pokey” he was practically lifted off the ground, they held their hands so high, ensuring that his dress rode up reminding everyone how thoroughly all parts of his outfit matched.
He was so relieved to be back in trousers the next day. His mother and sister got a little more amusement from it by refusing to clean off his nail varnish until the following day leaving him walking around all day with his fingers in a fist trying to conceal the sparkly peach.
His mother was quite pleased how well behaved he had become after that experience. Any little flash of naughtiness could be easily treated by taking out the wedding album.
Whenever they had visitors their attention was almost always drawn by the large framed photo of the family party at the wedding displayed above the mantelpiece. Laurence cringed as they had a closer look. But he looked so convincingly like a girl in his peach, puff-sleeved dress with the layers of petticoats and lacey tights, his hair done up in ribbons that they rarely guessed. Sometimes he detected some amusement in their faces as they looked closely at the flower girls and must have wondered at the taller one – clearly rather old to be a flower girl – dressed to match the little twins but managing to look even sissier.
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Topic: Home-schooling (Read 33275 times)
