But the pants were even worse. Mythighs weren't fat. Far from it. I was wonderfully toned just like theDaughter of Reason statue. But I could only...pull my former, boy's pantshalfway up my thighs. They were too thick for those boy's pants. Itwas just as well. My full, round rear would have burst the seams ofthose pants had I ever pulled them up all the way. I stared at theridiculous image in the mirror. The most beautiful girl I'd ever seentrying to wear a boy's clothes. I thought. ‘It wasn’t that funny,’ he said (accurately but, I thought, rather ungraciously). Finally the meal came to an end and George ushered us all into the drawing room (which was different from the sitting room, of course). More alcohol flowed, although not in my direction since I still had to drive home. The twins, well oiled by this time, showed signs of becoming gushing on the subject of me. A delighted, ‘Oh, Daddy, James is so funny and clever, isn’t he?’ followed some perfectly innocuous remark. More

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