I was about to graduate from grade school, 14 years old, and ready to conquer the world. Mom and Dad said I had an attitude problem. I saw it as more of an expression of independence. Well, they were going to Europe for a year because of Dad’s job and I was to stay with Aunt Rose. She was my father’s sister and had bankrolled his import business. He pretty much did things her way or not at all even though he was president of the company. I rather say that as whipping out on his part but he was my dad and I had to respect that and all the money he made anyway.

As soon as I was free the 5th of June, Mom and Dad were off to New York and London and who knows where else. Well, that was fine with me. I could use a break from parental supervision. I was a dyed in the wool slob and enjoyed it immensely. You know, sneakers, hole in the knee jeans, tee-shirt, long, dirty hair, the hoop earring in the left ear, the usual. Aunt Rose was pretty bossy though and I admit that I was a little afraid of her too. She was sufficiently larger than I was so she could probably put a hurt on me. She seemed kind enough when I was dropped off at her place though. I think that may have just been to fake me out though.

The first clue that I got that things were going to be different for me with Aunt Rose was that she was a neat freak. Everything had to be just so. Everything in it’s place and a place for everything. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t follow that rule very well. I mean, after all, just look at me. It seems I just couldn’t leave anything alone or put it back where it came from and that bugged Aunt Rose something awful. She said, "I’m afraid we are going to have to teach you how to be a little neater about things Keenan." "Whatever! Give it your best shot Aunt Rose." Not that I was flippant or anything!

July 4th: She said since I was so messy that I would have to learn to clean up around the house and gain an appreciation for what ‘clean’ and ‘orderly’ meant. OK. I cleaned. I didn’t like it but I did it. I learned with corrections at every turn how to dust and run the vacuum and wash windows without streaking them. The worst part was the bathrooms. I hated getting down and cleaning the bowls but Aunt Rose was one of those ‘spotless’ people and there was only one right way to do things, HER way. I admit there was a certain degree of pride to be taken in a job well done. The reason I noticed was that I guess I never really did anything really well before, especially school, but I learned how to clean house really well. The only problem with that was that she made me wear a frilly pinafore apron while I was doing all my housework and any time I had my hands in water, she made me wear rubber gloves "so you won’t ruin your pretty nails" she said. What did I care about my nails anyway? Besides, they weren’t very pretty, at least not at first.

And she was somewhat of a health nut too. She had some herbal concoction that she made me take every day along with some others she got at the store. She said it would help me adjust and boost my immune system. What did I have to adjust to besides her infernal neatness? You wouldn’t believe the ingredients. She ground them all up and put them in big capsules and I had to take 8 a day. They had, let me see, anise, black cohosh, castleberry, fenugreek and licorice root and eye of newt and lizard tongues for all I knew. Can you believe it? She said the fenugreek would help keep me regular, which I must admit, it did. The rest of them? Who knows? All I noticed was that my skin seemed to be a little smoother and clearer and after a few weeks I did feel a bit mellower about dressing decent and staying clean. She made me begin putting some kind of stuff on my face before I went to bed at night. It was creamy and smelled nice and sank into my skin and lo and behold, soon my teen aged acne was gone. My complexion took on a new, soft, glowing appearance. It was kind of nice not having a pimply face for a change. That part I enjoyed.

It was pretty wild at the dinner table too. She corrected me at every turn. I thought Mom and Dad were something, but Aunt Rose told me how to bite and chew and how to sit and how to place and use my napkin and everything. Talk about nit-picking!! Of course, I also learned how to set a proper table in the process, clear it and load the dishwasher. That was when I learned how to stoop from my knees rather than from my waist when I spilled something on the kitchen floor. It WAS so much more convenient for loading the washer too. I was really grateful for her teaching me that little trick because I had hurt my back riding my bike and sometimes it bothered me. You can’t bend over from the waist for very long without your back hurting at least not MY back. The only problem with bending down like that was I had to pick things up sideways but being so close to whatever it was, it was rather easier and she was right, it was easier on my back. I thought I was supposed to be on vacation and here I was employed for no wages as apprentice housekeeper and laundress. Well, I felt like a laundress with that apron on, especially over my shorts. Made me look like I was wearing a damn skirt and yes, I did laundry too, learning what went with what and about temperatures and delicates and all! I had never handled women’s underwear before. It was very nice and silky. I had no idea how nice it was until then. No wonder girls like it so much. It IS very nice to the touch. I tried to touch it a few times when I had a date but only got slapped for my efforts.

Well, she kept me at the cleaning until I actually got pretty good at it and it took me hardly any time at all compared to when I started. But gee, was I going to spend my whole summer in the house? I’d even gotten used to the apron. It wasn’t so bad I guess and it did accomplish the impossible. It kept me clean. Not that she insisted that I stay inside all the time. She offered on numerous occasions to take me shopping with her but if her shopping was anything like my Mom’s, I’d never survive it. I mean, in a shop, try on this and that and out again over and over. Boy, women sure do like to shop and buy clothes and shoes and jewelry and all that stuff. My idea of shopping is see it, go in and buy it and get the heck out of there.

August 2nd: Aunt Rose has been on me about my hair. She said to either have it cut or keep it clean and style it. Well, I like my hair and I like it long and wasn’t about to have it cut so I agreed to keep it clean, grudgingly. I should have known when she said ‘clean,’ she meant shiny, sparkly, squeaky clean. What she meant by ‘style it,’ I didn’t know. Aunt Rose had long hair herself and offered to show me how to take proper care of it so what the heck, it was her time and shampoo. She taught me all about taking care for long hair and how to shampoo and condition it and made me give it a hot oil soak once a week. I’ll have to admit it really looked great, nice and shiny and had a lot of body too, a lot too much for a boy, I think. I could have done an ad for one of those women’s hair shampoos as pretty as my hair had gotten. I could swing it around like they do in those shampoo ads too, downright fluffy it was.

It made me feel a little sexy sometimes as it swung across my shoulders if I wore a tank top. Every night I’d have to sit there and brush it to bring out the oils, she said. Long hair takes time, she said. Do it right or not at all was her motto. No wonder I never wanted to keep it nice before but then, I had all summer, only school would be starting soon and I knew she wasn’t going to let up on the hair or anything else. She seemed absolutely relentless about my grooming and deportment. I suppose it wasn’t too bad but I was beginning to have some doubts about myself lately. I felt, I don’t know, different somehow but just couldn’t put my finger on it. I think I was acting differently too, I don’t quite understand it!

She seemed pleased with my efforts and gave me some nice ties to keep my hair back and so I began having a pretty ribbon with a bow in it around my pony tails and sometimes I wore them up instead of down. I know that’s how girls wear them but I liked the way it bounced and swung around that way and I knew that European men wore ribbons in their hair. It was so clean and shiny and bouncy. I don’t know. I just liked it up sometimes. Aunt Rose said it looked real cute up in a pony tail. One night she had me come into her room and sat me down at her vanity table and proceeded to play with it. She brushed it forward and back combed it and parted it in the middle. Then she brought some forward and cut it straight across my brow and let the rest fall to the sides. "Doesn’t that look nice, Keenan?" "Well, yes Aunt Rose, it looks great but wow, bangs and everything and parted in the middle. I almost look like a girl with this nice top on." "Oh, you just look very well groomed. Don’t be silly, she said." ‘Ok, so I DON’T look like a girl. Whatever!’ I sure looked ‘different’ somehow. It was hard to put my finger on it or for that matter, how I felt about it.

As far as I was concerned, I was beginning to look darned feminine to go along with all my girlish chores. I didn’t mind helping Aunt Rose out but these feelings I was having were most peculiar. I believe I was becoming accustomed to the gentler side of life and continued handling of Aunt Rose’s lingerie was having a peculiar effect on me, like, I actually caught myself wondering what it felt like to wear something so soft and silky. I noticed I wasn’t complaining about stuff any more like I did when I first came there. I just sort of accepted things now as they were.

It was about this time that I seemed to be having a reaction to the herbs. I felt a little light headed and my chest was sore. I hadn’t taken much notice of it before but it had been going on for a while so subtly that I hadn’t taken any notice except for the itching. Aunt Rose suggested maybe I should quit the herbs and get my vitamins from the pharmacy. She was giving me other stuff too like vitamin C and Algae, Calmag and some other things. She said that whatever she did, she was not having my parents coming back and finding me sick. I really didn’t like taking that stuff with the weird names that she concocted, and so was just as happy when she came home with something else from the drug store and began giving me vitamin shots once a week and I had to only take some of the previous pills and two little brown pills a day from then on. What a relief, and they didn’t taste bad at all. They were coated with some stuff. I think something in that mix made me a little sick too for a few days. Every morning I wanted to heave but after about five days, it went away and I felt fine and my hair and skin never looked better. I was amazed to find myself liking to take care of my hair now. Gee, I never thought I’d like having pretty hair.

Aunt Rose was not one for sloppy dress either. I had come to her in torn blue jeans and a tee-shirt. That situation rapidly evolved and she had me wearing dressier clothes around the house like she did and certainly whenever we went out. By the end of July, she had me in nice slacks in various colors and fabrics some of which felt very nice next to my softer skin, some I’m afraid with no zipper or one in the back, and even one pair with the zipper on the side, tailored shirts in soft, silky fabrics and really neat, amazingly lightweight loafers with a low cut top down near my toes and low wedge or built-up heels. I really think they looked a little girlish but they felt really good and made my feet look smaller, not that they were really big or anything. I really think I was walking a little differently, especially in the slightly built-up heels but I found I really liked the higher ones better for some reason. They seemed to feel ‘natural’ and I rather enjoyed the way they fit and felt on my feet although the thought did cross my mind that these shoes made my feet look ‘pretty’. Everything was rather form-fitting though and accentuated my small waist and my hips. I didn’t even know I HAD hips. You know what I mean. We all have them but mine were getting sort of roundish and filled my slacks rather well and it wasn’t just that. I was putting on fat all over except my waist. My pelvis seemed like it was actually growing wider, the bones even felt very different. I realized I was going through puberty and all but had no idea a boy’s hips got wider then. Well, you know what I mean. I came to appreciate my pretty aprons as I didn’t want to get my nicer clothes dirty. I guess better shirts button differently too but I learned to love how they looked and felt so silky next to my skin and seemed to flow with my movements, graceful, you know? I got so I didn’t like wearing undershirts with them even though the silky fabric made my nipples stand out.

My bummy old blue jeans became history. She threw them out. Aunt Rose would help me with the housework but I did the washing too. Since I did the washing, I had apparently gotten an appreciation for keeping myself clean too. She taught me how to separate things and how to treat various fabrics, how to fold and what to fold and what to iron. Oh yes, she taught me how to iron too. I found that once I understood how to flatten things and maneuver sleeves and what temperatures to use, it wasn’t so bad but that was a painful experience nonetheless.

I scorched one of her blouses and she punished me. She put these two little hoops on my ears to remind me to be more careful in the future and they hurt like blazes until the next morning. Then, I couldn’t get them out. I couldn’t figure out how to do it and Aunt Rose refused to help and just complimented me on how nice I looked in my navy blue slacks, sky blue short-sleeved top with a low vee neck and navy blue stripy wedge heeled sandals and the matching blue scrunchy in my hair. They were leather shoes, and with all kinds of padding in them. They were very comfortable to work in though and they made my feet look really tiny and cute. They were nice enough sandals. I’ll bet a girl would never have worn them without painting her toenails though and I had a flash of what mine might look like painted. Gee, what made me entertain painting my toenails? Well, let’s face it, they WERE tiny but the size inside said seven.

I didn’t think I took that large a shoe. At 13, I was only 5'4" tall and could have sworn my size was smaller. Aunt Rose was a good three inches taller and her feet were just a little bigger, I think. She got me a new pair of loafers too. They weren’t so well padded but they were comfortable even though they did have a built up heel on them. It must have been about 2 or 2 ½ inches but it was a blocky heel and I had no problem walking in them. They were almost as heavy as my hiking boots and the heel height was just about the same as cowboy boots. She told me I should have them because it was good for my calf muscles to vary my heel height during the day since I was on my feet so much. That made perfect sense to me although I could have sworn I had seen the same shoe on a few girls around town. Then it occurred to me that girl’s legs always looked nicer in high heels. I wondered if mine did too but then, nobody could see them with pants on and two inches wasn’t that high anyway. Cowboy boots were every bit that high. I wondered what my legs looked like from someone else’s point of view. Now, why in the world did I even care about that? I never had before!

Aunt Rose was rather attractive and she did have a way with clothes and cosmetics. She knew how to look her best. Apparently, she wanted me to look my best too. Well, that was OK I guess, as long as she was paying for the clothes. I was almost beginning to LIKE looking nice. It did give me a little sense of pride to know I looked nice. It was a far cry from jeans and tee shirts and I began to take a certain pride in my neat and orderly appearance and I must have spent at least a half-hour on my hair every day. She said I was really lucky that is wasn’t dead straight like most boys. It fell in soft waves down to my shoulders and turned under a little bit. It seemed to be getting very full and thick lately but maybe that was just because of the conditioners.

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