The question is how did I become a firm believer in petticoating and dress disciple?
Well, you’d have to go back to two disastrous marriages. I guess I was not the best at picking husbands. So, unlucky in marriage I resigned myself to life as a single woman, and a near destitute one at that. That is until Barbara, my best friend, introduced me to one of her friends, Patrice.
“You should meet her. I think you’ll find her rather unusual marriage just the kind you’re looking for,” She said.
So I did as she suggested and met up with Patrice at her home.
“Barbara has told me about your two marriages to obviously a couple of losers. Men are such shits, aren’t them?” She said, and I had to completely agree.
“I’m thinking you might enjoy, let’s call it, an alternative life style in a marriage. Let me introduce you to what I loosely call my husband. Toddlekins get in here,” She shouted.
To say I was shocked at what walked in was a gross understatement. What minced in was a small, I guess you’d call him a guy, but dressed in the absolute sassiest, little boys outfit. To start there was his pixie hair, perfect for a teenage girl, but not on a guy, especially with the big, baby blue bow pinned on top of his head. The there was the ultra full, bloomered pants with white, ruffled sticking out. His legs were girlishly smooth down to the juvenile heavily ruffled ankle socks and mary jane shoes with not bows on each toe, but jiggle bells as well. Worse still, for the poor, well, guy, were the at least four inch heels. To my amazement he actually curtsied to Patrice.