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To: DaddyI fight with the hooks on the bra. Im much better at taking them off then I am at putting them on, but on it goes anyway, if only to make you happy.
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Into the dress I slide, boxers and all. It hangs off my masculine frame in an odd way, making me look more like the boy I am than the girl you want me to be. All just to make you proud.
Slowly, I color my face with make-up, not knowing what half the things are for, let alone called. Its just my mask, besides; your idea, just for you.
I ignore the runs I put into the nylons as I pull them up, just like I ignore the heels in favor of my scuffed up boots, just like Ill ignore your frown when you see.
I scowl at my reflection, and wipe off the lipstick staining my mouth. I tousle my short hair and pull the dress back over my head to exchange the bra for my bindings instead.
I look all wrong, but its your right. Im your daughter, your hidden son, and the dress is just for you.