She looked at herself in the mirror; a little chubby. She had to lose a little bit of extra weight. Everybody was saying so; she still heard comments about her weight. She didn’t need people to tell she didn’t look particularly beautiful; she knew. But she was doing her best; and she was putting her best foot forward.
She adjusted the dress; it would look a lot better when she lost the extra pounds. It was a challenge though. She still had 10 lbs to shed. But she’d get there: she had will power. Look at her now; she wasn’t there 6 months ago.
She dressed the curls about her face, then put some light make-up. Just enough contour, some dramatic eyes and just a very light gloss. When she looked back at her reflection, it was better. Now she looked more like she should. That was who she was.
There was a knock at the door. No! She wasn’t…
“Honey? You in there?”
But it was too late, her mother had opened the door. She bit her lips.
“Nathan! What are you doing?”
“Why are you dressed as a…” she seemed at a loss for words. “What are you dressed like?”
“Why aren’t we eating already Mary?” His father came in. “Shit! Nate, why the hell are you dressed as a trans?”
His father looked furious. He probably was and would explode in seconds if he didn’t answer fast.
“It’s… it’s an idea for… Halloween.”
“You’re not getting out like that. Over my dead body. What the fuck went through your head? You want people to call you a fag?”
“John!” His mother chided. She hated that word. That he knew.
“What? I’m not having my boy be called a sissy.”
Nate saw his mother’s gaze; she knew. And she didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t fair. He pulled the wig off his head.
“I’ll change back. I’ll find another idea.”
“And I’m burning that thing.” His father said.
“No John.” His mother interrupted. “I’ll bring it to the charity. They may need it for cancer patients. And a wig is worth a lot of money.”
“Whatever. Nate, the football game will start in 30 minutes. I want to have eaten by then. So hurry the hell up!”
“Yes, dad. Five minutes tops.”
His father turned around and went back down. John McReidy never faced any problem he didn’t want to have.
“Honey? You ok?” His mother asked.
“I’m fine.” He sounded hopeless even to his own ears. Of course she wasn’t going to believe it.
“I…” She didn’t finish. “Joanna! Come and help with the table!”
His twin sister was the lucky one. She didn’t have to justify how she felt about her body. It wasn’t fair. He looked back at the mirror as his elusive true self disappeared along with the make-up. It was stupid to have tried to find her when his father was home.
In response to the Daily Post writing prompt Elusive