One day, a UPS driver delivered another box, this time a large box, to our house, and by the way Mama looked at me when it was brought in, I immediately knew it was for me.

As usual we all gathered around to see what was in it, but Ma didn't want that this time.

"Now you boys. OUT of the house. Go on. It's too nice of a day to be inside. Now git," she demanded in a stern voice while pointing toward the front door.

I, of course, knew she was only referring to my brothers and not me, so I stayed where I was.

Once they were gone, Mama had me open up the box. It was full of other packages. There was two, six-pair packages of panties in white, black, blue, red, peach, and purple; all made of a lacy nylon and a six pack of white, black, and blue panties made of plain cotton, several pairs of girly socks...

My eyes grew wider and wider as she pulled out each item to show me.

"Aren't these just darling, my little sweetheart," she exclaimed as the items kept coming.

I just couldn't believe my eyes as she opened package after package: pantyhose, a slip, skirts, dresses, shoes, blouses, a sweater, and even more stuff. She was serious about me assuming this role and had spent a lot of money on me; money I knew could have been better spent, or, I should say, saved for the future.

"Ummmm," was all I said when I saw a bra come out of a package.

I kept my true feelings to myself in order to not hurt my Ma, but to be honest the bra kinda weirded me out. It was a bridge too far, in my mind.

"Tadum," Mama called out as she held up the black bra by its straps for me to see.

"Now, sweetie, I know this isn't enough clothing for a proper teenage girl, but it's a start."

"Mama," I decided to speak up. "Aren't we going too far with this? Spending too much money, unnecessarily I have no need for a bra. I'm still a boy, in case you've forgotten. "

"Oh really?" Ma responded. "What real boy sets his shoulder length hair and wears it in curls? What real boy wears makeup and fingernail polish? What real boy cooks, does housework, and laundry? All while wearing dresses, I might add."

Mama's voice was much sterner than I could remember ever hearing her.

"Anyway, you're not the only boy in the world that enjoys getting to experience life in a girl's role, I'll have you know. And yes, I believe you are enjoying it."

Then in a much softer, controlled, almost disappointed tone she said, "If you want, just wash off the makeup. Get my scissors, and I'll cut your hair. I can send the clothes back. And don't worry about the house. I'm sure I can get a housekeeper or a cleaning woman to come in and take care of it and you boys too. I'll figure it out somehow with what time I have left."

I stood speechless, tears welling up in my eyes. I reached out and took the bra from my mama's hand and made a show of looking it over as if I was really interested in it.

"My little girl," Ma said with a sniffle in her voice as she pulled me to her and gave me a big hug.

Overcome by Ma's emotional display and not wanting to hurt her, I cried, "I do love it," as she hugged me to her chest.

But do I? Yes, I am mildly intrigued by all this, but my agreement to this is solely based on the fact that Mama is dying, wants to know there will be someone around to take care of everyone when she gone, and me not wanting to disappoint her. Isn't it?

Obeying Mama, I took all the new clothes to my room and laid them out on the bed.

Ma's first instruction was to take a hot bath and use a bottle of hair removal cream she gave me, on my arms, chest, legs, and everywhere else. Girls, she told me, were to be soft and anyway my clothes wouldn't feel right against body hair.

Ma was in my room when I returned from taking my bath with a towel around my waist.

"First these," she said handing me a pair of white lace trimmed panties. I turned around from her as I changed into them.

As soon as I pulled them up my legs, the soft feel of the nylon caused me to become aroused and I was so embarrassed, even more so because Mom saw the bulge in my panties. At least she didn't mention it.

"Now the pantyhose," she instructed.

Sitting on the bed next to Ma, I fumbled with the beige colored hose, trying to figure out how to put them on.

After watching me struggle, Mama took them from me and showed me how to gather up one leg. "No, like this honey. See?"

Once I had the hose in place, Ma handed me a two-tone brown pleated skirt. I stepped to it and fastened it around my waist. It was almost knee length.

Next, she offered me a lace trimmed, white bra with molded-foam A cups. I stuck my arms into the straps and Ma fastened the hooks in the back and adjusted the straps.

Mama then placed into each of the cups, what she said most girls call chicken cutlets. They were breast forms and they really did look like raw chicken breast cutlets.

"You'll need these until you fill out, sweetheart," she explained. 

What did she mean by that, I wondered.

Finally a tan colored blouse with a lacy collar was the last of the clothes.

Now that I was done,Ma had me spin around so I could experience my skirt flaring out around me. When I stopped spinning Ma held out the only item of this ensemble I was familiar with, a pair of tennis shoes, but they weren't my usual tennis shoes. These were girl's solid white, canvas tennis shoes.

Once I had tied the shoes on my nylon encased feet, Mama took my hand and guided me to her room to look at myself in her full length mirror so I could see, as she put it, the same thing she saw, a beautiful girl that was destined for the responsibility she was training me to assume.

The transformation was unbelievable. I was amazed at how much I really did look like a pretty girl. Was mom right? Was I really predestined for this?

I poised, turned, and brought my fingers to my face in a teasing way. Ma stepped up behind me and placed a hand on each of my shoulders.

"Sweetheart, you were meant to be the daughter that takes my place when the time comes. Do you see that now? And since the doctors say that time could come sooner than later, we've got to spend every moment we have left, preparing you." 

Mama ran her fingers through my hair and gave me a sad look through the mirror. After several moments standing there she told me she was going to teach me how to carry myself in a more girly manner.

She walked out of her room and down the hall. She had me follow along behind her mimicking her movements.

"No, this way, walk like this. Heel, toe; heel; toe. Move your hips a little more. Shorter steps, feet closer together. You're doing wonderfully well, my beautiful daughter," she coached.

For the next hour I practice walking and posing; while Mama laid on the couch complimenting me and calling out directions, "Look at me, run you fingers through your curls, pucker your lips, shake your head, open your lips a little when you smile."

It was all like in the movies where photographers snap lots of pictures of models while giving directions the entire time.

Mom and I had so much fun together that day. We spent a lot of time giggling and joking.

She'd say "look sad" and I'd give her my sad look; "look angry" and I'd do that; "look happy" and I smiled.

She coached me on different types of smiles including, a polite smile, a sincere smile and a flirty smile. She even taught me how to smile with my eyes. The last emotion she gave me was to "look like I was in love."

"Hold up, Mama, that's a hard one. You do that look, Ma, look like you're in love." Looking at me she opened her eyes real wide, puckered her lips, and glanced up at the ceiling. With that we both burst out laughing.

"Now you do it, look like you're in love," she instructed me. 

I imitated her and she laughed, saying "I think I've seen that look before on your face."

Mama touched up my makeup and my hair just before time for me to start dinner. I think she did too much today. She was completely exhausted, so while I cooked, she slept.