Writing The Self #4: Playing Dress Up

Growing up with three sisters around you all the time is not a walk in the park. I spend the majority of my time with them because my brother is usually playing hockey. My two older sisters often find joy in practicing their “skills” on me. Those skills ranged anywhere from forcibly painting my nails to forcibly putting makeup on my face. I usually don’t even care that they do that to me. They’ve gone the whole nine yards today. Literally everything. My clothes, makeup, and nails were all done to their liking. Prancing around like I was the newest Miss Universe, I heard the garage door open. My sisters start laughing hysterically at me as the garage door hums in the background and a panicked look takes over my face. My mom and dad were home.

I didn’t care about my mom seeing me like this, but I sure care about my dad seeing me. I always acted like a stereotypical “man” around my hockey playing, farming, and motorcycle riding dad. I think to myself “I can’t let him see me acting like a girl, he will be so disappointed in me”, so I violently jumped down the stairs to get downstairs as quick as possible. As soon as I got to the bottom step of the stairs, the door opened, my dogs came rushing into the house, and the hard footsteps of my mom and dad echoed above me. I ran to the bathroom, took my clothes off, put my regular clothes on, and tried to wash everything off of me. I think I got most of the makeup off but I couldn’t get the nail polish off. My sisters came down to help me after finally calming down from their laughing fit. They took the nail polish off and I thought to myself “this was a close one, I can’t keep letting them do this to me. I can’t get caught by my dad”. My parents brought home some Dilly Bars from Dairy Queen and I want one before my family eats all of them. So I go upstairs with my sisters and grab a Dilly Bar.

As I’m sitting on the stool at the island, my mom asks me what’s on my face. I can feel my face getting red hot and I turn my head away from my dad who is now very obviously trying to see what’s on my face. My sisters start laughing at me which makes my face feel even more hot. I tell my mom “nothing”, finish my Dilly Bar, and run downstairs to keep scrubbing my face.

3 thoughts on “Writing The Self #4: Playing Dress Up

  1. Hey Reece, this is a funny story, because I was kind of the same as you I didn’t care what my sister did to me or what I put on but I always tried to impress my older brother, it’s funny as you get older the more stereotypical you get of your gender, your stereotypes of your gender are started to show just as a little kid and in your experience that happened too. It’s funny how the stereotypes of being a male allow you to want to impress the males as that’s what the stereotypes show, doing manly things. All around great and hunerous story!


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