Bend Over Jessica

Now, most people I know, would never in a million years mistake me for a man.

First of all, I am far too well-endowed in the chest department for it to be a possibility, unless I was in a Shakespearian play which required me to dress up as a man and for the other characters to amusingly not see what’s staring them in the face. Or at least staring at them at chest-level.

I also have blonde hair that drops to my waist and always wax my legs.

However, needs must as they say and at the end of December HWMBO and I are hosting a birthday Regency Ball for two of our lovely friends who have their birthdays on consecutive days. However, we ended up with more girls than chaps and this means that once more dear friends, I must step into the breech (ha ha) and will be dancing on the ‘improper’ side of the ballroom, i.e. on the chaps side. Step forward therefore Emrys ap Gwylim, The Earl of Brokenby, heir to an awful lot of sheep and land miles from anywhere in Pennal, Mid-Wales.

I’m actually quite excited about being a chap although HWMBO spoilt my fantasies of having a big twirly moustache by pointing out that my collar had to match my cuffs and given that the hair on my head is golden blonde, so would the moustache have to be. Somehow, blonde moustaches don’t have quite the whiff of danger that black ones do. I also realised that as I have a bigger bottom than HWMBO, who is one of these lithe and compact men, that I’m not going to fit into any of his breeches or shirts (that’s my chest again!). But I’m borrowing his riding boots and someone else’s jodphurs and my school shirt will do. I can put my hair in a ponytail with a black ribbon, because men wore their hair long, especially in out of the way places like Wales.

So on the outside, I will look as manly as manly can be*. However, then HWMBO** asked me if I was going to pack.

Jessica: “Pack what?”

HWMBO: “You know, pack. As in, have a bulge.”

Jessica: “Where?”

HWMBO: (chuckling)“In your, ahem, manly parts.”

Jessica: (suspicious) “Are you suggesting I wear a strap-on to dance?”

HWMBO: (dying of laughter) “No, you might damage yourself. Men don’t dance with erections. I meant socks!”

Jessica: (outraged) “I’m not putting socks down my jodhpurs! What if they slip? I’ll have to keep adjusting my parts.”

HWMBO: (now hysterical with giggles) “Well blokes do that all the time! Now you know why!”

I don’t think I’d like to be a bloke.

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*Adopts gruff voice
**Amused by his transvestite wife