The Rebel

VII

I yelp upon the abrupt alarm clock in human form as an excitable young adult bounces onto my legs from the door, before a hand is flung over my mouth to prevent the inevitable wake up of two stingy parents. The glare she receives leaves a sting on my nose from the force of her finger nails. She bites her lip to contain her hyper screech as her hands quietly slap together. My head shakes, amused as Fifi also grunts at her for the early wake up.

"You have to get off of me in order to get ready." I raise my eyebrow towards her pyjama shorts and vest shirt, she even has her bed socks on. How she can wear something on her feet to sleep, is a mystery to the universe. "I need to know where we're going, how long we'll be out, how much we're planning to eat before I even consider what to wear. You should know that." I am the real shopper in the family, her points are valid.

"There's a new mass shopping centre across the bridge, on the other side of town. I've been dying to go to it for months. They have all the best shops, a whole floor for the food court, and I think they even have fabric and material stalls in the market section." I know she isn't going to argue with my suggestion, don't argue about such things with an eccentric gay.

"Alright. What sort of food do they provide? I need to know if it is a jeans or leggings option." She always complains that if she wears something non elasticated, eating can become uncomfortable. Despite the fact that she burns food off ridiculously fast, she always feels the pressure.

"The peach corduroy skirt with the long sleeved white crop blouse. Some winter leggings, without runs in them. Wear your brown ankle boots and faux fur coat. Oh, and also use the white bag I bought you for your birthday." I form the outfit off the top of my head, making sure to accommodate for all queries. No heels on the boots, light clothing that is still warm, nothing tight or restrictive, no single shoulder bag with extra room.

"I want to have your brain." She shakes her head while leaving the room to put on what I've suggested, well more like commanded. Honestly, I wish I could wear the stuff she can without receiving backlash, but it just makes things more rewarding to have to stand up for my expression.

Scratching at the back of my hair while yawning, I waddle out to the bathroom. Instant appalment at my reflection as there is possible dried drool on my cheek, sleep dust under my eyes and hair that is like Elphaba in Wicked - defying gravity better than she ever dreamed.

A brief wash in the shower solves all problems in one, though I note that I am in need of a haircut since the shaved part at the nape of my neck is getting too long and the ends of each strand are apparently Hydra's as they have sprouted three more pieces.

Combing through it, it complies with the demand of a messy plait with sections to frame my face. We're going somewhere that basically no one is going to recognise us, so today is a day to have fun. I'm in the mood to go fully fem, and that is what is going to happen even if intercepted.

Saying that, I am not impressed with my options. Everything that is totally feminine to me is also only summer appropriate with my body settings.

Instead, I reach into my fabric basket and drag out an old piece of astrology patterning. Reaching for some old boring flares, my scissors get to work by taking off a triangular section on the sides from knee to ankle. I attach the material inside quickly with my machine. For a shirt, I have a cropped black denim that I previously sewed golden star signs on the collar of and down the buttons. There is also a cotton jacket with all sorts of star markings I also stitched with different types of thread. The glitter sections on the wrist and waist band came with it when bought.

Glancing in the mirror, my heart flutters. I've missed seeing my reflection without doubt and misery. So long has been spent trying to at least attempt to meet my Mother's expectations. Seeing myself as I really am, a breath of real fresh air.