Curiosity Killed The Oysters, He Replied

By Dr. Pepper 14

Summary: Cross-dressing is a way of life. Live and let live. It's not Jerry's fault that he's prettier than you.


five times is enough to turn anybody a little queer

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He was a little over eight and three quarters the first time he dressed up as a girl and maybe a little hyper from the four orange sodas he had guzzled behind the couch when his mother wasn't looking (though later his tell-tale orange tongue landed him a week of no TV, which was really no punishment at all since the only thing he was allowed to watch was Reading Rainbow when he really wanted to watch Power Rangers like all the other kids) so, when his cousins crowded around him with lipstick and held a dress up to his figure, he was all systems go.

-

The second time was really more of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. His mother worked over at the Clinique counter at the mall (the one with the high-end stores, not the one with that shitty excuse for a department store) and one day all her little Mary Kay friends decided an impromptu tea party was in order.

But really, it was more of an ambush.

The scent of perfume like poisonous gas swept into the house along with three older woman who marched through the doors as though they belonged there with their hand bags and caked-on makeup (war paint, he told himself).

He hid behind his mother, ready for battle.

"Oh, come on, Jerry! Your sister's at a friend's house and we simply must have someone to practice on."

His mother betrayed him for promises of ruby red lipstick and sapphire blue eye shadow. He never really had a chance.

-

By the third time, he was resigned to his fate. He sat in his chair like a good boy, lips pursed in distaste as cotton candy pink was applied to them, glaring at Marge who attacked him with mascara.

An innocuous tea party had turned into a weekly torture fest. His mother insisted that every time was the last but his sister was never home anymore and the Maybelline girls had nothing better to do on a Sunday night.

He complained and made faces but in the end when he went over to the mirror and looked at himself through thick black eyelashes, a part of him liked what he saw.

-

The fourth time, he was really just curious. He held an eyelash curler in his right hand and prayed to God his parents wouldn't come home for another few hours.

He had forgotten about his sister, though.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He was finished with his eyes and just starting to work on a natural pink glow for his cheeks when his sister found him.

"Um, nothing."

"Okay."

When she left, he washed his face so fast that he practically rubbed all the skin off.

-

He was cast as Dorothy in his middle school play The Wizard of Oz because he was the only one who could hit the high notes and looked relatively okay in a dress, so the fifth time wasn't his fault either.

All the makeup was loud and dramatic. "You have to able to see it on stage!" No lips were naturally the color of a stop sign.

After the show, all the parents came up to his mother and told her what a wonderful daughter she had. "She has such a beautiful voice and her hair is so pretty."

He had been wearing a wig, but he beamed with pride the whole way home anyway.

-

By the time he was in college, it was no secret to him (or to anyone else) that he was a cross-dressing fag. He knew exactly what he was doing the sixth, seventh, and eighth etc. time.

He outlined his eyes in dark charcoal with perfect technique.

He loved the night life and there was some new gay bar downtown he wanted to check out, so he put on his favorite outfit (you only wish you looked that good in a black mini dress) and set out to paint the town his favorite shade of red.

"Sexy." He gave his reflection one last look in the mirror, blew it a kiss, and walked out the door.


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In case you are wondering, Dana, this is another result of speed writing. I'm really quite proud of this for some reason, even though it took little to no time to write. It just kinda hit me today as I realized that all of my gay characters don't act very… gay. I guess it's just cause, in real life, all the gay people I know aren't flamboyant or obvious. So, because I write what I want when I fucking feel like it, I decided to play up the most cliché portrait of a gay man: the girly man/cross-dresser.

I see this as having more chapters, but don't expect a plot. It's really just little peeks into Jerry's life.

Review with a little something nice, huh? I dare you.