Robin, A Nail Polish Dilemma

 Robin, A Nail Polish Dilemma

I was still living at home, even though I was eighteen and had just finished my schooling. The last year of school was difficult for me, so any hope of a college degree was futile. I had the smarts but lacked any desire to utilize it. Usually a few weeks after I was taught the material I would have a hard time even reciting it back. I couldn’t see any use for the knowledge being taught me, I knew I would end up doing something physical to earn a living. The few friends I associated with had already faced that reality, two in construction and another driving trucks for a living.

I had found a few odd jobs around town, something to keep me busy and keep my parents from lecturing me about a career and a job that would amount to something. I saw the look on their faces often, but luckily they chose not to lecture me about by go nowhere life.

My sister had already moved out, her choice of a career getting her ahead quickly. She has been promoted twice, now a department head earning almost three hundred dollars a week. She loves her work, her choice of courses in school perfect for the job she has now. Another sore subject that I am sure will be pointed out to me at a later date. If only I had applied myself, found something I was interested in I could be sharing in her success.

The parents wanted to do some renovations around their house, my old bedroom converted to a sewing room for Mother, a wish of hers for so long. I ended up in my sister’s old room, unchanged from when she occupied it. My old room was perfect for Mom, the natural light from the many windows perfect for her sewing needs.

Sis’s room was upstairs, a smaller room but with lots of closet space. She moved a lot of her things to the house she was renting, saving the daily commute that she now faced. She now had a roommate, both friends for many years. Hence no need to purchase a lot of furniture or accessories.

She left a lot of her things in her old room, Mom wanting me to just put up with the way things were. So I now slept in a canopy bed, with silk sheets and a lacy comforter. Her dressers were still there, still having a lot of her lingerie housed therein. Her vanity still had a lot of makeup and nail polish on it, even the makeup mirror she had used still there. She stops by every once in a while to pickup a lipstick or a bottle of nail polish that she needs for a certain look.

So I am a male that lives in an estrogen environment, a fact of life for me. For the most part I manage, but do handle some of her clothing on occasion, even sampling some of her makeup on occasion. Curiosity prevails, not a desire to wear it all the time.

Up until recently I had left her nail polish alone, Then one night when I was bored out of my skull I opened one of her nail polishes and tried to paint one of my nails. I had seen sis do it many times, but it proved harder than I imagined. Unfortunately, I had forgot about some way to remove the polish, so for the next couple of days I sported a pinkie finger with pink polish on it.

I remembered to keep that hand in a fist when out, that way the nail with the nail polish would not be seen. I did eventually borrowed some of my mother’s nail polish remover, and got the polish off. That was done when Mom was out shopping. I vowed to get myself a bottle of remover before I tried the nail polish again.

I realized I was thinking of trying it again, no reason particularly, but the thought still persistent. A week later while out shopping at a drug store I remembered the nail polish remover and bought myself a bottle of it. Now I was prepared for another attempt, still not sure why I still was thinking of painting my nails again.

I had a good week a month later, earning more in one week that I had in the previous month. It was exhausting, unloading trucks for eight straight days. I decided I need a rest, so I bought some snack foods and some diet drinks and prepared to hold up in my girly room for a week of peace and quiet. I made it till mid week before the urge to try the nail polish again surfaced. I managed to ignore it for a day, but on Thursday I gave in as soon as I had snacked on some breakfast cereal.

My parents were going to be out all day, so no chance of being caught wearing nail polish. I went through all of sis’s nail polish stumbling on a box of really pretty colors in a drawer of her vanity. I decided on a light red color, taking extra time to make sure I did not get any nail polish on anything but the nail. An hour later, I had painted all ten fingers, even removing my socks and doing my toenails. It was stressful, with me closing my eyes after completing the job.

Sis grabbing one of my hands woke me up right away, as she held my hand and gazed at my manicure. Before I could pull my hand away from her she had snapped a picture of my hands sporting the nail polish and was sending it to her computer. She looked at the nail polish I had used and smirked. I was asked if I had read the bottle, and handed me the bottle pointing out the warning on the label. I read it and nearly passed out. It was a semi-permanent polish requiring three weeks before it could be removed, then only by soaking it in acetone for twenty minutes.

She wanted to know if I wanted her to inform Mom of what I had done, or did I want to try and hide my nails for the next month. I tried to start a reply several times, but the words were not leaving my brain in any semblance of order or meaning. The door to the kitchen opened, my parents had returned. I stammered but asked her to try and explain what I done to Mom in particular. I knew she would be the one to question my motives and jump to conclusions if given time.

Sis left to fill Mom in, returning several minutes later, a smiling Mom right behind her. Mom examined my nails, even checking my toenails. A bigger smile then surfaced as she went to my drawers where I kept my underwear and removed all of it. It was put in a bag she had in her hand and then left the room. Sis just smiled, knowing full well what Mom was doing.

A little while later Mom returned and went through the drawers that had Sis’s underwear in them picking a few items for me to wear. I was made to remove what few clothes I still had on, and put on the underwear that had been picked out for me to wear. Thus attired, I was led to one of the closets with my sister’s dresses in it and handed one to try on. The first one fit a little too tightly, the second one fit almost perfectly. Both sis and Mom gathered up my male clothes that I typically wore and left the room leaving me there, bewildered and confused.

Sis had spoken to Mom, no yelling but now dressed in one of my sister’s dresses with perfectly painted nails, the male me no longer around. Mom returned, informing me that I would be dressing as a female, makeup and nail polish, heels and stockings for the foreseeable future. No arguing, you did this to yourself, so no one to blame but yourself.

I suggest we change your name to Robin, a much better fit than Rob to how you will be dressed. I still expect you to have some type of employment, you are not going to stay here and do nothing. Your sister might be able to help you out there, so I would suggest that you ask her nicely. If left up to me I will volunteer you for the daycare center down the street, they are always needing help.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl