It was an evening I will never forget.

When I got home from school, my mother said, “After dinner we’re going to show Dad what a pretty girl you are.”  I almost fell over. “See what I found?” she said.

Mom held an embroidered flower in her hand and said she found it in my bedspread.  It was from her new dress, the one she wore the night before.  Each button had a flower just like that.  “You were wearing my dress” and “I don’t like it”. I was caught. It would get worse.

Mom had returned late the night before.  Mom and Dad decided she would sleep in my bedroom so not to disturb Dad.  Dad and I would sleep in their bedroom, big twin beds.

Mom’s new dress  was a crisp, plaid bouffant shirtwaist. Each button had a flower stretched around it.  Under it, she wore her bouffant petticoat, three layers of lace and two of net. I ached to try it on.  I didn’t sleep much.  I waited for Dad to leave early for work.  He had a big job.  Mom was asleep in my room.  I peeked in.  The dress and petticoat were draped over my desk chair. 

I woke Mom.

“Hey, could I have my own bed back, please?” I said. 

She argued for a moment, but said “okay” and returned to her own bedroom. I jumped into my own bed.  After a few moments under the covers, I got up and put on the petticoat and dress.  The skirt belled out around me.  The shirtwaist style was so feminine, so thrilling.  I sat in it, then laid down and rubbed across the bed so I could feel the stiff net petticoat layers and then hung the dress and petti over the chair.  I figured I left everything just as I found it.

But I had not.

All that day she called me “Gerty”.  She tried over and over to humiliate me.  A hideous day.

That night after dinner, Mom firmly told me to come into their bedroom.

“Let’s show dad how you look as his daughter,” she said, demanding I take off all of my clothes except my underwear.  “Put up your arms,” she said, and dropped the petticoat over me.  I tried to position the
petti at my waist but she said, “No, put it up higher so it won’t show”.  Huh?  And then she dropped the new dress over, zipping it up in back, just what I could not do that morning.  “See, that’s perfect”.  She
actually smiled.

“Come on… follow me”.  We entered the living room.  Dad was reading the newspaper. 

“How do you like your new daughter?” mom asked. 

He look up briefly, pulled up the paper and said nothing.  I turned crimson and was in tears.  “See his petticoat?” she asked Dad, swishing up up my skirt.  Dad didn’t look. 

I quietly walked back to their bedroom. I heard Mom say, “Now maybe he will get it out of his system.
.
I knew she was wrong.  I would always wear petticoats.  I also knew wearing Mom’s clothes was a dumb thing to do.