Gender Roles

I saw this Meme on Molly’s site this morning, and thought I’d have a quick rummage in my photo folder to see what mine would be. It’s a peach, so I thought I’d share it.

Go to your sixth picture folder

Select the sixth picture

Tell the story behind the picture:

My 30th birthday: I held a quintessentially British Tarts and Vicars Party… except I asked everyone to switch genders. I felt I needed a laugh. 

Now, the reaction of the common-or-garden British male to the prospect of wearing a dress can vary widely. I found that practically every point on the scale from ‘Disturbingly Enthusiastic’ to ‘The Lady Doth Protest Too Much’ was represented.

One of John’s oldest pals simply didn’t come because he was so horrified by the entire concept of coming in drag. Another chap dutifully turned up in the requisite short skirt, but looked so painfully unhappy I was worried all night that I’d upset him forever. My closest male friend, who errs on the shy side with new acquaintance, turned up in the most fabulous costume – but I distinctly caught wind of an undercurrent of cripplingly acute embarrassment.


On the flip side: the three gentlemen pictured here dived joyously into drag faster than rats up a drainpipe. I am married to the hairy one (wearing my old skinny clothes! Although, in my defence, I only ever wore the top with black trousers, and the skirt was scissored off an oriental dress) in the Tina Turner wig who is reaching out to tweak the other chap’s boob.

And in case you’re wondering, I dressed as a pimp.

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