Discovering Mitsy

by Robin Diaz

 

Chapter One

"Mom I don't feel good," I tried not to act.

"What is wrong sweetie?" She asked, then stepped over to me and felt my forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"It's my stomach, and I have diarrhea."

"What did you have to eat?" The real question was - did you eat a bunch of chocolate. Every time I eat a lot of chocolate, I get sick.

"Nothing," That would make my excuse believable. I am always eating, except when I'm sick. "I'm not hungry."

"I can't stay home, I'm working today."

Mom always thinks we want her around when we're sick. I chose to be sick because I knew she had a sub assignment. She is a substitute teacher. She cannot come home early or drop in on me. Dad had already left for work. My plan was to have the day alone.

"Go ahead and get ready for school, we'll see how you feel when the bus comes."

"OK" I did as she asked, but I did not need to wait until then. I knew how I was going to feel. Shortly before it was time for the bus to arrive, I ran into the bathroom. While sitting in the bathroom the bus came and went.

Mom tapped on the door. "Sweetie, I have to leave. Are you going to be ok?"

"I'll be fine." I will be better once you are gone.

"Drink plenty of water. You don't want to dehydrate."

"Ok, I will" Talking through the bathroom door is a weird way to hold a conversation.

"And no chocolate and that includes chocolate milk." She believed that I caused my sickness. And she was right.

"Ok" Would you go already.

"I'll be home a little late. I have to pick your brother up from football practice." She was having problems leaving me.

"Ok, I'll be fine."

I heard the door to the garage close. Then I heard the overhead garage door open and close. I stepped out of the bathroom in time to catch a glimpse of mom's car going down the road. Our dog, Otto, a German Shepard, walked up to me. I scratched him behind his ear. When I was done he walked away. He lay down in his favorite spot, on the tile floor in the foyer. I dashed up the steps.

I had the planned the day for weeks. However, my plan required mom to get an assignment. Today was going to be the day I performed a complete transformation. Over the last couple of years I have been sneaking into my mother's drawers and barrowing her lingerie. Usually I only had an hour here or there. It was hard to be home alone. I had to wait for the times when my brother would stay at a friend's house and my parents would go out to the movies or shopping. On those rare occasions I would wear mom's panties and bra, or this sexy red baby doll nightgown, with matching panty. Once I wore this sexy black bra and panty set from Victoria Secretes, with a black slip. The slip had lace trim along the bottom and around the cups. I sat at mom's vanity and I tried my hand at make up. Sitting in front of the mirror, seeing my image, I had a revelation. I had always felt like something was wrong, missing, and incomplete. That day it became clear. All the puzzle pieces were around me. I needed time to put the puzzle together.

At the age of twelve, I was not considered hairy, however I had more hair on my legs and arms then I wanted. My plan was to start with a hot bubble bath. Mom always seamed to enjoy them. While the tub filled with hot bubbly water, I looked through mom's drawers. I was careful not to disturb her clothes. She could never know that her little boy, sweetie, was wearing her lingerie. I pulled out the black panty and bra. I went to the next drawer and pulled out the black slip. I then pulled out a pair of black pantyhose.

I laid everything on the bed and went into the bathroom. It took a few minutes for me to submerge myself into the hot bubbly water. My skin had turned red. Using mom's razor I shaved my legs. The bath beads were working on my skin. They became so smooth. Thrilled with how my legs felt I shaved my arms and armpits. I soaked until the water started to cool. Then I ran the shower. I stood in a tube full of bubbles and washed my hair, shoulder length brown hair. Mom hated my long hair. She wanted me to have a Marine cut like my brother. At first I thought I was growing my hair long to be defiant. Then the day I had my revelation, I realized I was growing it long because, that is the image I wanted. I wanted hair down to the middle of my back. I wanted hair that flowed with my every move. I wanted hair that shined in Sun light. I wanted long hair that danced in a gentle breeze. I was not being defiant. I was being true.

With all the bubbles gone and my hair conditioned, I stepped out of the tub. I patted myself dry. Instead of drying my hair, I wrapped the towel around my head. I planned to brush and blow-dry my hair after slipping into the lingerie. Maybe it was the cool air touching my skin after a hot bath, or the anticipation of what I was about to do, but I had goose bumps.

I picked up the panties and slowly stepped into them. The soft satin glided across my smooth legs, caressing my skin. The front panel was a floral lace pattern with a scalloped top. The panties had a snug fit. My skin tingled. I felt energized.

I picked up the bra and slipped my arms through the straps. I reached behind and hooked the clasp on first try. The other month I spent a long time learning how to hook my bra from reaching behind. I admired my image in the full-length mirror. The black lingerie looked sexy against my pale white skin. My little penis started to swell. I had never before pleasured myself. I wondered. I started to rob my crotch. My little penis grew. I continued and it hardened. Rubbing the panty against my penis felt good. It did not take long before I felt wetness on the panty. The idea of making a mess scared me. I went into the bathroom. I pulled the panty down and saw a clear gooey liquid. It felt slippery. I started to stroke myself. Within minutes, I felt a pressure; it was almost painful. I considered stopping; I thought I was doing something wrong. I did not stop. I could not stop. There was so much pressure. I let out a groan. The release was unbelievable. There was so much force it shot across the toilet hitting the tank. After the release, calmness came over me. I felt, I knew the high a junky felt when the heroin entered their vain. I wanted another fix.

I cleaned up my mess. I hoped the wet spot on the panty would not stain after it dried. I felt a twang of guilt. For a brief second I considered not continuing with my transformation. For a brief second, the urge to know was to strong.

I took the towel off my head and picked up the slip. I was careful not to get the slip wet. I adjusted the straps on the slip. Again, I studied my reflection in the mirror. I started to rub my hands and the slip over my panty covered bottom. The way the slip glided over the satin material was very sensual. I discovered that day that I have an affinity for slips. I had to stop caressing my bottom, or I would need to go back into the bathroom.

I rolled the pantyhose like I seen mom do, and slid my feet in. Then gently, careful not to tear, I pulled the pantyhose up my legs. I could not believe how fantastic it felt each time I put a new article of mom's clothing on. My skin tingled. The slightest touch tickled, without tickling. It was no wonder that women enjoyed clothes.

I realized I forgot the stuffing for the bra. I hurried to the basement. Each step I took down the stairs, I felt the lace trim along the bottom of the slip caress my thighs. I could have spent the next hour walking up and down the steps. I went to Mom's craft cabinet and pulled out the bag of white stuffing material. It was like a big cotton ball. I stuffed my bra, C cups. Once finished I ran back upstairs to see how I looked.

I stood in front of the mirror and ran my hands over my body. I wished my breast were real. I wanted to know what it was like to have breasts. I ran my hand along my waist to my bottom. I started to caress my bottom. It was so sensual I squirmed. I was torn between completing the transformation and going into the bathroom. I decided the bathroom could wait until after my transformation was complete.

I sat at mother's dresser and picked up the blow dryer and brush. I worked on teasing my hair out. Unfortunately, instead of getting a full looking head of hair I started to create knots. Realizing I needed to learn how to do my hair, I quit teasing my hair and brushed the knots out. I then decided to work on my make-up.

The first thing I did was paint my nails, a bright red. I took my time and was extra careful not to make a mess. When the polish touched my nails it felt cool. After the polished dried my nails felt heavier. I never expected I would feel anything.

As silly as it sounds, wearing nail polish added to the experience of putting my make-up on. Watching my hands move in the mirror was as if I was watching someone else; a beautiful someone else. I applied the red lipstick just as I watched mother. I set the lipstick down and studied my image. I smiled. Seeing my white teeth outlined by the bright red lips was sexy. I acted like I was kissing my reflection. I was hot. At that moment, I did not think or feel that my actions were perverse.

With my lips done I decided to do my eyes. I looked around for mom's women's magazine. There was an article on how to do your eyes. After searching the bedroom without any luck, I went down to the family room. I found it in the magazine rack. It wasn't until I turned and saw my neighbor on their back porch, did I realize that none of the drapes were closed, and that I was walking around in full view. I ran back up stairs. The thought that I might have been seen worried me. I also felt excited about the fact that I was walking around the house in plain sight for all to see. I giggled.

Is giggling at your own thoughts, while alone in the house, a sign of insanity?

I sat back down at the dresser and began to work on my eyes. I followed the instructions in the magazine. What the article failed to mention was how my eyes would water. After several attempts I began to get the hang of using the eyeliner pencil. The blue highlighter was easier to apply. The mascara started out simple until I got a few specks on my cheek. The specks turned into smudges after I tried to wipe them off, then one big smear. With some effort, and a cleansing pad, I was able to correct my mishap.

The next step was the hardest, trying to decide what to wear. I first tried on mom's little black dress. It fit well and felt sexy, but was too formal to wear around the house. I then tried on a fitted black and white striped skirt with a white blouse. The blouse felt sexy, but didn't look good over the black slip. I tried on several more dresses that felt sexy but were not what I was looking for. I decided to investigate the garment bag hanging in the back of the closet.

I found a maroon sleeveless sheath dress. The dress fit tight. I had trouble zipping the back. I studied my reflection, turning left and then right. I struck several poses like the fashion models in the magazine. The dress was not what I desired, but it was the best I had found. I wished I had a mini skirt like the girls wear to school.

I decided to search on line for an outfit. I went into my room and fired up the computer. While the computer was connecting to the internet I sat crossing my legs and straightening my dress. Again, I felt that tingling sensation as the dress and slip glided across my nylon covered legs. I looked down at my painted fingernails, at my smooth legs, at my dress and my breasts. I felt like a twelve year old girl playing dress-up in her mothers clothes. I smiled.

I started surfing the internet. There were so many outfits I wanted. I found myself wanting a friend. I wanted someone to discuss fashion with. I quit surfing and started to make a female persona for when I am on line. The first item; was a name and a user name. I started to run through the common names, Anne, Amy, Alice, Abigail, Beth, Becky, Brenda; no I didn't want a common name. Then I thought of Sissy, and nixed it. That is what kids in school call me. Mitsy came to me. I liked it. It was cute, very feminine.

After completing my profile I searched for a chat room for young girls. It was easy to find one through the teen magazine sites. I was shy at first but eventually joined in on the conversation. The most awkward point was when the girls started discussing who the cutes star was. I never before told someone that I thought Brad Pit was cute. I chatted for hours. I giggled and laughed at their jokes. That afternoon I was one of the girls, not the boy hanging out with the girls.

"How are you feeling?" I jumped at hearing the voice behind me. I spun around to see my dad standing in the door way, staring at me. The wind was knocked out of me. My mind froze.

"Are you going to tell me you're delirious?" His voice was flat. He did not appear angry. He stared into my eyes. I looked back at him. I opened my mouth but had nothing to say. I did not know what to say.

"I came home to make sure you were alright. I'm glad to see you weren't surfing porn." Again his tone was flat, he made statements of fact.

I felt like a major disappointment. "Dad, I'm sorry."

He just kept looking at me. "You better change." He turned away. "No wait, don't change." He came back to the door. "Stay the way you are, your mother needs to see for herself."

"Dad" I held my head down from the embarrassment. "Does she have to know?"

He stood in silence. My heart was pounding. I started to cry. I did not know if I was crying for him or if I was crying for myself. I knew that I never wanted to wear girl's clothes again. I would never degrade myself again. I would be a son that my dad could be proud of.

He stepped up to me and handed me a tissue. "Dry your eyes."

"I'm sorry, I'll never do it again, I swear." The guilt was crushing me.

"Dry your eyes." He told me. "You can wait downstairs with me."

"Can't I change" I did not want mom to know what I had done, "please".

"No, she needs to see you." I guess I had to be thankful that dad was not angry. But with dad it was hard to tell. He never seamed to get excited unless it was a sporting event. Then he would cheer and high five people. He never yelled in a negative way. He always cheered the team on. Mom once described dad as 'he is neither a half empty nor half full type of person; he sees an empty glass as an opportunity for a cold beer'. I had learned that when dad is mad he gets quiet. It was best to wait until he wanted to talk.

I followed dad down the steps. He sat on the sofa and watched his cop show. I sat in the love seat. We did not talk. I could not get into watching television. I was too scared and nervous. He kept glancing over at me. At first I felt perverted and ashamed. Then as time passed I started to relax. I started to view the situation differently. I was spending the afternoon dressed as a girl, sitting in the living room watching TV with my dad. How hot was that?

When I heard the garage door start to open, I became frightened. He looked at me. I was twisted around in the chair looking out the window. I dreaded what was about to happen.

"Why don't you go wait in your room. Your brother doesn't need to see you." I did not need to think about his offer. I hurried up the steps.

I shut my door and paced the room. I heard them talking but could not make out what they were saying. I heard Jeff go into his bedroom. Then after a few minutes I heard mom and dad walking up the steps. They were talking.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned. She too had problems reading dad.

"You'll see. And it's not like something is wrong, wrong. You just have to see." These were the times I was glad dad stayed calm.

"Now you have me worried." Where dad was calm, mom was emotional. She liked to whip us with guilt. Sometimes her words did more then sting, they cut.

Dad whispered to mom just outside my door. I did not know what he told her, but I imagined. She through the door opened. She saw me standing in the middle of the room.

"Oh my God!" She held her hand over her mouth.

I saw her shock. I heard the disbelief in her words. I felt her disappointment. "I'm sorry" I mumbled. She walked up to me. She took a hold of my chin and lifted my head. Dad closed the bedroom door. Mom studied my face. Tears swelled and fell from my eyes. She continued to study my face.

"Why?" Was all she said. Then she looked at dad. He shrugged his shoulders. She returned her focus to me. And asked again, "Why"?

"I don't know" I said wanting to look down, to avert her gaze.

"Yes you do" She stated.

That was how mom and dad were different. If the dog crapped on the carpet, dad saw it as a mess that needed to be cleaned up. If you are unwilling to accept that the dog will make a mess once in a while, then you should not have a dog. Mom had to understand why the dog shit in the living room and not the basement. She needed to understand why all the other days that the dog was left alone he didn't shit in the house, but he did that day. Dad accepted; mom needed to understand.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I was curious."

Mom let go of my chin. She stepped back. "Lift up the dress."

"Why!" I didn't understand.

She motioned for me to lift. I started to pull the dress up. I continued to lift the dress until she could see the panties. She looked up at my face. "Put your dress down."

"I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

"Damn right you'll never do it again." She lashed out.

"Why don't I take Jeff to get some dinner," Dad stated. Mom looked at him. "How's Chinese sound. That should give you time to get him cleaned up." He asked her.

I could tell mom was not finished disciplining me. I think Dad didn't want her to say anything she would regret. I wished I had gone to school. I wished the day had never happened. Mom took a deep breath. "You go. I'll deal with this." Mom had a way at making me feel like a pile of crap on the floor.

"What do you want son?" Dad asked me. I think mom wanted to yell at him.

I first glanced at mom, kind of like asking for permission to speak. "I'll have the spicy chicken with fried rice." My voice was shaky.

"Do you want an egg roll?"

"Sure, but not the shrimp egg role, the other type."

"What do you want?" He asked mother.

"The usual." She snapped.

"Shrimp fried rice with an egg role, shrimp." Dad stated, questioned. Mom nodded yes. Dad left my room. I heard Jeff argue with him about riding along. But when dad raised his voice a little and told Jeff he was going, Jeff quit arguing.

After they left mom took me into her room. She had me strip. When I was down to the bra and panty she asked me if I shaved my legs. She shook her head in disbelief. Then she raised my arm to inspect my arm pit. Again she shook her head. While still wearing the bra and panty, she took me over to the sink and instructed me on how to clean the make-up off. She then had me strip out of the bra and panty and put my clothes on, which I left in a pile on the floor. She picked up the panty and examined them.

"You ruined these," She said in disgust as she through the panty in the trash.

"Sorry" I felt little.

"Give me your hand," She commanded holding her hand out. I did as she asked.

"Sit" She said. I sat in the dresser chair behind me.

She picked up a packet and tore it open. She took out a red pad and started scrubbing my fingernail. The nail polish rubbed off.

"You can do the rest" she stated handing me the pad.

I worked on my nails in silence.

"You know I am very disappointed. I never would have imagined anything like this."

"I'm sorry"

She studied me. "I don't want you in my stuff again. Do you understand?"

"Don't worry I'll never do this again, I promise." I looked at her so she would know I was telling the truth.

"Good." We sat looking at each other. "If you find yourself curious, I don't want."

I interrupted her, "Mom I will never do this again, I swear, I won't".

"I don't want you sneaking into my room. Come to me. I will buy you what you want."

I was shocked by what she just told me. What was she thinking? I don't want girl's clothes. "You don't have to worry; I'll never do this again".

"I'm telling you that if you are curious; I'll buy you what you want. But I want to hear you say, Mom I want my own dress. And I'll take you shopping for a dress. We'll go to the mall and you can pick out any dress you want."

My first thought was, like you will ever hear me ask. Then I wondered if she meant it, or was she baiting me. Did she want more of an explanation then, curious?

"I don't want a dress."

"Good, that will make your father happy." She patted me on the leg.

 

Nothing more was said. Jeff never knew. It took dad over a week before he spoke to me like before. It was during that week that I made some resolutions. I was going to never dress like a girl again. I made that one when dad caught me. I was going to work out and go out for a sport. I thought about track, dad ran track when he was in high school. I was never going to be a disappointment again. I will be a son that my parents could be proud of.

Chapter Two

The football season ended. The holidays passed. My little incident was forgotten by mom and dad, but not by me. The desire to redo the transformation was strong. I wanted to feel the joy I felt that day. I wanted to feel the tingling sensation that I felt that day. My thoughts constantly drifted to that day. I was having trouble concentrating. The feelings I felt that day were beginning to rule my life. I started to think of sneaking into mom's drawers. I did not want to lose self-control. I did not want to be like a junky.

It was spring. We were in the mall shopping for summer clothes. We were in the Pac Sun store shopping for T-shirts. Mom was struggling with Jeff's selection of shirts. He no longer wanted to dress preppie. I noticed a pink pleated skirt and T-top on a manikin. I became fixated with it. It was very sexy. A girl would be lucky to wear that to school.

"Douglas" I heard mom.

I quickly looked away. I was caught. Mom stood by the shirt rack studying me. She then looked at the pink skirt and top; then back at me. She connected the dots. She stood looking at me. I knew she was waiting for me to say something. She wanted to know if there was something I wanted to ask her.

"Ha." I said.

"Is there a shirt you want?"

"I don't know" I said shrugging my shoulders. And I don't know why. I did not think to do it, but I glanced over at the pink outfit. I did not intend to look. Mom saw me glance over.

Again, she did not say anything. She just looked at me. Well, are you going to ask? I turned and looked in the shirt rack. I pulled out a black T-shirt with a flaming skull on the front. "I'll take this."

"You're not wearing that".

"Why not?" I protested. It was a shirt that a boy would wear.

"How about this" she said, pulling out a simple light blue T-shirt.

"That's fine"

"Are you sure?" I could hear the undertone in her voice. Are you sure you don't want a pretty little dress?

I gave her an affirmative, "Yes".

"Let me find your size." She said as she checked the sizes.

After paying, we went home. Mom told us to try our shirts on before cutting the tags off. My shirt was too small. Jeff's shirts were fine. Mom decided it would be best to return the shirt then, instead of latter. We drove back to the mall. We rode in silence. There was tension between us. It was like coming home and smelling the odder. She was sniffing, holding her anger back until she found the pile of dog crap. Otto would be lying on the floor looking guilty. I sat in the car feeling guilty.

We went into the Sun Pac store. She exchanged the shirt for store credit. We went to the rack and started looking for one that would fit me.

"I don't see one in your size." She said. I shrugged.

"We will have to get pick out something else."

I started looking through the rack.

She asked. "Is there anything you want?" Again there was that undertone.

"I like this" I pulled out the black t-shirt from before.

"Besides that?" I heard the, don't be ridicules tone in her voice.

I looked through the entire rack without finding anything. We looked through the next rack then the table. The next rack had swim trunks. I passed by it and turned to the next table. The table had girl's swim wear, bikinis. I paused, not more then a second. When I turned, Mom was looking at me. She was giving me that look, do you want to ask me something. I wanted to scream; no I don't want a bikini.

We went back to the first rack. I grabbed a plain red t-shirt in my size, "How about this?"

"If that is what you want?" I swear she was enjoying herself.

We purchased the t-shirt and left Sun Pac. She wanted to do some shopping while we were there. We went to Victoria Secrets store. She looked at bras and panties. I was embarrassed to be in the store with her. Seeing all the lingerie was a sensory overload. I kept looking around. I wanted to see if I was being watched. I did not want to be seen drooling over lingerie.

"I'll wait for you outside." I told mom.

"No stay with me. I'm almost done." She picked up a pink bikini panty. "What do you think of these?"

"Mom!" My God, why are you asking me.

"They're on sale buy two get one free." She picked up a pink, white and pale yellow panty. Then she went over to some drawers and pulled out matching bras.

"I'm done lets go" She said walking up to the cashier.

We rode home in silence. I didn't feel tension from her. She seamed pleased. I thought about asking her, mom I want my own dress. My leg was bouncing out of control. Mom set her hand on my leg to keep it from bouncing. I told myself, I will be a son you can be proud of. I will be a son you can be proud of. I most have repeated it in my head a dozen times.

A week later; Jeff was at a friend's house. Mom and dad went to the movies. I was home alone. I tried to resist but the desire was too great. I decided I would wear her panty for a half hour, no more. I slowly walked upstairs, a doomed man. I carefully opened her drawer, as if it was booby trapped. I saw the Victoria Secrets bag. I thought about the pink panty and bra. What a find. I opened the bag and slowly pulled the lingerie out. I was careful not to disturb the order or how they were folded. The lingerie was half way out when I saw the note, 'For you' signed 'Love Mom'.

I dropped the bag surprised and looked around. I expected to see her. I read the note again. I thought about putting the lingerie back and going back down stairs. This could be a test or a trap. I remembered her words; 'damn right, you will never do it again'. I was torn between two desires, the desire to please my parents and the desire to please myself. I succumbed to my inner desires.

I quickly stripped out of my clothes. I pulled the panty on. It was a better fit then mom's was. The sensation that I felt before rushed through me. I had goose bumps. I slipped the bra on. It was obvious that the cup size was smaller then mom's. I looked at the tag on the white bra, 34A. Mom had purchased these for me. She knew it would happen again. I looked at image in the mirror. I then adjusted the bra straps lowering the cups. The bra and panty were for me; mine. I smiled.

As happy as I was at finding her surprise, I did not want her or dad to know. I looked at the clock. Mom and dad would be gone for another hour. I pulled my pants and T-shirt on. My pants felt baggy. The elastic on the panty caressed my bottom as I walked. I went in the basement to get the stuffing for my falsies. Once back upstairs, I sat the family room and watched the television. I kept looking down at my chest. It was joyous to see breasts.

I wore my lingerie for a half hour. I did not want to take the chance of being caught again. I returned everything to the bag. I was confident that mom would not be able to tell that I was in the bag. I sat in the family room, watched television and waited for them to return.

Over the next month, I had two more opportunities to wear my lingerie. Each time was brief. I thought about taking one of the panties out and wearing it to school. Just for one day. I thought there would be low risk, not much chance of being caught. The idea was intriguing, even exciting.

I went to put my plan in action. I determined the safest time to go in their room would be while dad was at work, mom was cooking and Jeff was at track practice. I crept into their room and quietly open the drawer. That was when I discovered the bag was gone. My first thought was, mom knew. Then I figured she might have moved the bag. I looked in the next drawer. Then I thought, maybe the bag was a test, and I passed. She could not know that I had been in the bag. I thought she probably through the bag in the trash.

"Looking for something?" I heard mom ask.

I spun around. She was standing in the doorway, with her arms folded across her chest. She didn't sound angry, but she didn't look happy.

"I was." I did not know what I should say. "I was looking for." I was caught going through her drawers. I thought that maybe I should be honest. "I was looking for the bag".

She walked over to the chest at the foot of their bed. She opened the chest and pulled the bag out. She stood there looking at me holding the bag. I did not know what I should do. The obvious was to take the bag. It was also apparent that if I took the bag nothing would be the same. From that moment forward, my life would change.

I stepped up to her and reached for the bag. She pulled it way. When I looked at her, she raised her eyebrows, "Do you have something you want to ask?"

I looked at her. It was one of those moments frozen in time. There was silence except for the tick of the clock. I knew what she wanted me to ask. I did not see anger in her eyes, but she was determined that I voice my desire. I felt my heart beat. Actually my heart was pounding.

"Mom I want you to take me shopping for a dress." Once I started, the words flowed.

She handed me the bag. "I'll take you Saturday."

"Mom" I thought I should apologize. That it was the proper thing to do and say. However, apologizing did not fell right. I did not fell sorry. "Thanks."

Mom hugged me. Then she told me, "You better put those in your drawer."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I love you"

We hugged.

That Saturday dad and Jeff went on a golf trip. Mom took me to the mall. She told me that I had to tell her what I wanted. Which was easy to do, I wanted the pink outfit in Sun Pac. She told me that was taking all the fun out of shopping. We needed to go into at least five stores. She told me that there was more to a look then the skirt and top, there were the socks, belt, shoes, purse and make-up. She told me that I did not need to try anything on, she would hold ever thing up to look at. I just had to give her my opinion.

I looked at my mom. I was happy. There was an adventure of a lifetime in front of us.

 

The End

  

  

  

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