Michael wore a look of absolute terror. His mother rarely shouted like this so he quickly murmured an apology.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” She replied much more calmly. “The last thing I want is to start buying my sissy son frilly knickers and pretty dresses and sending him to bed in a nightie… so it’s entirely up to you Michael.”
The uniform was one thing, an actual dress and frilly knickers was another. So Michael decided to put up and shut up. He hung his uniform neatly in his room and vowed never to ‘think sissy’ again.
Later that evening as he lay in his bed trying to get to sleep, he kept staring at the silhouette of his school shorts and shirt. He visualised how his feet looked clad in white knee socks and black Mary Jane’s.
