The mixed up gender changing rooms
I tweaked the curtain of the cubicle. “How does it look? Does it fit?” There was a muttered response followed by a series of grunts and gasps. I rolled my eyes. My mother was trying to fit into a size ten… again.
I turned sensing someone was watching. I’d heard about hidden cameras in changing room…”.Holy shit. I don’t believe it,” I gasped out loud before I could stop myself.
A man was changing in the cubicle next to my mother. The curtain didn’t quite fit and I got an eyeful of hairy legs. My heart thudded in my chest and my skin tingles all at the same time.
Hastily, I averted my gaze as he began to strip.
“Well, what do you thing about this for the family party,” my mother called out. “Don’t come out Mother,” I squeaked. But it was too late. Not satisfied with turning this way and that way inside the small changing cubicle, she rattled back the curtain and stepped out to admire herself in the full length mirror on the wall opposite.
The man poked his head and his partially naked torso out through the half open curtain. “You asking me? “he queried.
“Well, why not, since you’re there,” my mother said cheekily.
A glint of admiration flashed in his eyes as he looked her up and down.
“Mother! Get back into the changing room,” I hissed.
“Oh don’t be so bloody prissy,” she scoffed. “It’s a person changing room now,” she added nodding to a sign that had completely slipped my notice. “Isn’t that you young ones say? No more gender names – no more labels just persons now. Anyway, it’s always good to get a handsome man’s opinion,” she said coyly.
She smiled at the man as if a man in the changing rooms was the most natural thing in the world. She did a little twirl and preened, smiling at herself in the mirror. “No, on second thought maybe it’s not me,” she decided “Here, you try it on,” she urged giving the man a sassy wink.
“Me?”
“Try it on. Go for it,” she tittered.
“Mother!” I hissed through gripped teeth, embarrassment turning me the colour of chalk.
My mother struggled out of the dress and stood there in her washed out knickers and bra positively unperturbed.
“Well, since I’m here, I might as well try it on,” the man chuckled; reaching for the dress from my mother’s outstretched hand.
”Mother, cover yourself, “I growled positively beetroot red with embarrassment now as I tried pushing her into the cubicle to the titters of the young shop assistants waiting with baited breath to see who was going to buy the dress
“What? Oh get over yourself. I think I look amazing – for a woman of a certain age,” she conceded. “Don’t you think I look …?”
“Mother!” I rapped trying to push her behind the cubicle curtain. “Get dressed. The shopping trip is over!”
By now the man was valiantly trying to hook the brassiere type topless dress over his man boobs.
“It’s not really my thing,” he said in a strangled breath.
“Here, let me help you. It’s a better fit on you than on me,” my mother joked adjusting the dress over his hips. “Treat yourself – buy it,” she trilled.
The man’s biceps rippled as he struggled to dislodge the clingy dress over his head. Pulling his tee-shirt on, he fixed his hair and admired himself in the full length mirror. Free of the dress he held it at up at arm’s length. “I really only came in to buy a tee-shirt.”
My mother’s eyes widened. “But I thought….” Her voice trailed off. “I was sure… all this new gender stuff…“her voice trailed off. Then she brightened. “They have a nice coffee shop – Fancy a coffee by way of apology.”
“Maybe another time when your daughter isn’t in such a hurry,” he smiled as I tried in vain to nudge my mother towards the shop door.
“A week from today?”
“Yeah. Why not,” he agreed. “Same shop – different outfit, “he tittered obviously flirting with her now. “It’s a date.”
Bemused, the young sales girl slipped the dress into a fancy bag and watched him go.
One thing I knew for sure this was a shop I wouldn’t be shopping in for a while.
Gemma Hill ©July 2021
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 