Lessons Learned

 "Okay I can do this," I told myself climbing unsteadily to my feet in the black heels "Women do this every day, how hard can it be?"

Since my sister turned me into a girl I've tried everything to make her change me back. I've begged, pleaded and threatened but she flat refuses to make me a man again until I've "Walked a mile in her shoes." 

So here I am learning a whole new skill set I never imagined I'd need. So far we've covered "personal care",  I've been forced to shave wax or tweeze every inch of this ridiculously hot body. Learned to put on makeup and style my hair  I've also had to put up with a long and very gross lecture on feminine hygiene I hope I never have to put into practice. 

Now we're moving on to "deportment". Lesson one, walking in her favourite pair of stripper heels.

Releasing the chair I took one faltering step, two, trying to compensate for the awkward sway of my hips and the unfamiliar weight bouncing in my chest.

"I'm doing it! I'm doing, EEEK!"

My cry of triumph dissolved into a decidedly unmanly squeal as I tumbled to the floor in the middle of my third step. 

Pushing my long blonde hair out of my face I hid my embarrassment with a forced laugh and tried not to think about the possibility it might take me a very long time to master the art of being a woman.