It was a Monday morning and we were eating breakfast when Judy said, “Andy, remember how you helped me out by working with Dorothy on the kitchen remodelling?”

“Yes, Judy,” I said looking up from my soft-boiled egg and toast slice.

“By the way, are you happy with how it turned out? I mean is it everything you hoped for?”

“Yes, it is. All the appliances are wonderful. The new layout saves a lot of time – and the colors are so warm and cheerful.”

“I can tell. It seems to have lightened you mood. You don’t seem as resentful of taking care of the house.”

“Well, I’ve found ways of being creative – I mean with cooking and decorating and so on. Watching those videos you suggested opened my eyes.”

“I’m so glad. While I’ve complemented you on individual tasks and meals, I’ve neglected to say how much prettier the house is, and what an accomplished cook you’ve become. I really appreciate the effort you’ve put into homemaking.”

“Thank you, Judy.” I could not help but feel a warm glow at the complements.

“Back on point, I need your help with another task. You know how busy I am with the Rheinhard case.”

“Of course.”

“I’m thinking of buying some skirts and dresses. They give one a softer look, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, they do.” Judy wore nothing but various forms of trousers – pants suits, slacks, and shorts.

“I’m glad you agree. There are some catalogues on my desk. I want you to look through them. Familiarize yourself with the various fabrics, styles and colors and pick out what you like best. I want to please you, and I don’t have much experience with skirts, so don’t try to imagine what I’d like. Bookmark the skirts and dresses you like best. Look up any term you don’t understand, because I want an intelligent discussion this evening. Be prepared to tell me what you do and do not like and why. Ok, honey?”

“Do I really need to be involved? I mean, what do I know about skirts and dresses?”

“You’re always complaining that you want more input into decisions, so I’m trying to get you more involved – just as with the kitchen. Your aesthetic sense is better than mine. You have the time to do the research, while I don’t, and I want to buy dresses that please you.” Judy does not get angry, just impatient, and she was getting impatient.

“Ok. I’ll get to it after the breakfast dishes.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and left.

I did the dishes, and brought a four-inch stack of catalogues to the kitchen table. After pouring a cup of coffee, I started. They were surprising, as the styles seemed too feminine for Judy. Maybe she wanted to soften her appearance? I looked at the backs and found that all the catalogues were addressed to Sandy Parker, her assistant. Maybe she’d just asked Sandy for some catalogues and hadn’t looked at them.

Sandy was tall, but very feminine – perhaps as a compensation for her height. Still, she was sweet, and I always got along well with her. Looking at her catalogues seemed very intimate – almost an intrusion into her privacy. Still, she must have volunteered them knowing I’d see them.

There were a lot to go through, so I decided to look at the pictures, pick out the few outfits Judy might like, read their descriptions, and then try to understand any unfamiliar terms. The trouble was, I couldn’t see Judy in anything in Sandy’s catalogues. Then I remembered that Judy asked me to ignore her taste and pick things I liked. With that in mind, I found that Sandy and I had similar tastes. I liked almost everything. Now I had a very different task: picking out the prettiest one or two dresses in each catalogue.

About noon I made myself a salad of fresh greens and feta cheese, along with a cup of green tea. I used to eat far more, but Judy was on my case to slim down. I’d gotten down to 135, which made her happy, and I did my best to stay there. You might think that’s a bit light for someone 5’ 7”, but I have a small frame and, even at 135, I have flab on my chest and rear. So, it's a reasonable weight for me.

I speeded up after lunch. By 5:30 I’d managed to get through the pile, bookmarking dresses I liked in each catalogue. I say 5:30, because that's when I start making dinner. By 6:30, when Judy came home I’d set the table with candles and a few flowers from the garden. I met her with a glass of chardonnay for each of us and listened as she told me about her day.

Dinner was baked salmon with dill, snow peas from the garden and rice pilaf, with an apple compote for dessert.

“Another excellent meal, sweetie. You’re a wonder! A born homemaker!”

Now I was both complemented and embarrassed. “I don’t know. I mean before they closed my department, I was in line for a promotion.”

“I know, dear! But you came home every day so tense and stressed out … you even had problems in bed. Don’t you feel more relaxed and creative now? … and I know you’re a lot more fun in bed.”

“I suppose I do … and am,” I said blushing. Judy had taken greater charge of our sex life lately. I enjoyed it, but it was embarrassing.

“I just love how demure you are, sweetie. … Now tell me how you’re progressing with your assignment. Have you found any dresses you want me to buy?”

“Well, I looked though all the catalogues, and I don’t think anything in them is your style.”

“I told you not to worry about that. I want to please you. Have you found anything you like?”

“I understand that. My tastes are different, so I found a number of dresses I liked. I bookmarked a few in each catalogue.”

“I’ll move my chair around while you clear the dishes and get the catalogues.”

“Yes, dear.” I hurried off to the kitchen with the dishes.

“Oh … and bring another bottle of chardonnay, sweetie.”

“Yes, dear.”

Judy kept our glasses filled as I showed her the dresses I especially liked.

She stopped me at one point to ask about a dress that I hadn't marked. “What about this one? Sandy said she bought it for herself and was quite pleased with it.”

“I do like it, but it has a lot of lace, so I didn’t think you would.”

“I told you, not to worry about what I would like. I want to please you! You’ve been doing such a great job.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. … So, if I can summarize, you like A-line and shirtwaist styles, full skirts, demure necklines, floral prints, and lengths from mid-calf to just above the knee. Is that fair?”

“Yes, generally.”

“OK, and what about fabrics?”

“Well, I looked up the fabrics I didn’t know, but it’s hard to choose as I have no experience with most of them.”

“Yes, I should have anticipated that. You need more experience wearing various fabrics before you can form a rational opinion. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, dear, that sounds reasonable.”

“Good, I think we’ve made a lot of progress on the dress issue. I want to thank you for the good work you’ve done so far.” She reached out and took my hand, leading me to new adventures in the bedroom.

The catalogues were strangely interesting, so I continued to leaf through them for the rest of the week. I also researched fashions and fabrics online. I told myself that as a homemaker, I should know about such things.

Thursday a number of packages started arriving. They felt like clothes. When I phoned about them, Sandy told me Judy asked her to order them. I should put them aside until Friday, when Judy would return from Sacramento.

Judy argued her motions Friday morning, and managed to be home by 3:00. After greeting her, I asked about her trip. She told me the arguments had gone well and she expected to win her motion. I was about to ask about the packages when she did.

“Sweetie, did you get the packages Sandy ordered?”

“Yes, I put them on a shelf in our closet.”

“Well, they’re presents for you. Let’s go open them. I’m anxious to see what she bought you.”

“Presents? It’s not my birthday. … And why did Sandy buy them?”

“Yes I know. I told Sandy what kinds of things to get, but left the specifics to her. You know how busy I’ve been.

“I’ll explain. Remember Monday when we discussed what kind of dresses you’d like me to buy?”

“Of course.”

“You weren’t in a position to decide, because you have no experience with most of the fabrics used in female clothing. So, you agreed that you needed to experience a variety of fabrics.”

“Did I?”

“Yes … So, I asked Sandy to order you clothes made of a variety of fabrics so you could gain that experience, and voila!” she said, gesturing to the packages on the shelves.

I was getting nervous. “Female clothing” and Sandy being involved made me feel faint. I sat on the edge of our bed.

Meanwhile, Judy referred to a list on her phone, picked an over-stuffed envelope and said, “Let’s start with this one.”

I opened it slowly, as though dealing with an unexploded bomb. Inside was a garment of blue knit fabric with an elastic waist. A skirt? Was I being put in skirts? And Sandy knew? I was starting to hyperventilate. I calmed myself, then ripped open the clear plastic inner bag. A pair of slacks revealed themselves. The tag read: “Women’s 6L - 95% Polyester 5% Spandex - Egyptian Blue.” After fretting it might be a skirt, that they were pants was all that mattered.

“Let’s see how they fit, Andy.”

“You mean try them on?”

“Well, duh.”

Embarrassed, I slipped off my jeans.

“Boxers too,” she said while opening a smaller package.

By the time I stepped out of my boxers, Judy was holding a pair of white cotton panties.

“Panties?”

“Yes, size 6. Your boxers would bunch up and show under stretch slacks. So, I ordered you some plain panties.”

“You ordered them? Not Sandy?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want Sandy knowing I'd be wearing panties.

“Still, panties?”

“You knew you’d be wearing them sooner or later. The day has come.”

Did I? Not at a conscious level, but I supposed it was inevitable. I blushed as I pulled them up.

“Those slacks aren’t cut for boys, so tuck yourself back.”

I took her advice.

“You might as well wear a cami with your panties. Take off your top,” she said, opening another package. I imagined an embarrassing satin and lace confection, but the cami she handed me was like an ivory a-shirt, but with spaghetti straps. It’s cotton-lycra knit clung to my chest, hardening my nipples.

You might think I’d be embarrassed or excited, or both. I wasn’t. I was just numb, or rather overwhelmed with so many thoughts that I stood there like a dumb blond – which I am – blond, not dumb.

“Earth to Andy …” Judy was holding my new slacks for me to step into.

Once I pulled them up, they moulded themselves to my flat abdomen and round rear. The wide legs hung like a skirt. I broke into a smile, realizing I liked them very much.

“I think you like them, Andi.”

“Yes, I do.” I thought about it for a second. “They express who I am now – a male housewife.” I started to walk over to the mirror, when I realized I was stepping on the pant legs. The thought that my slacks might have to go back almost made me cry.

“They’re too long,” I said, my voice almost breaking.

“No, sweetie. They’re meant to be worn with heels.”

“Heels?”

“Yes, Andi. I’ll find them.” Referring to her phone again, Judy searched though the boxes.

“Ah, here we go.” She handed me the box. A shiny pair of black block-heeled Mary Janes greeted me.

“See if these fit.”

“What size are they?”

“9½.”

“I wear an 8.”

“Yes, when you wore men’s shoes. Now you're a 9½. Try them.”

“I need socks.”

“I could get you some peds or lace ankle socks, but you really don’t need socks with MJs. Just slip them on and buckle them up.”

As soon as I gained my balance, I discovered some thrilling things about my MJs. First, they gave my slacks a soft, elegant flow. Second, they made my rear more feminine. Finally, they made me as tall as Judy, who generally wore flats.

The last had a strange effect. Ever since I’d met her, I’d had to look up to see her eyes, and that made me feel … well … small, weak and submissive. Now, suddenly, dressed in lovely clothes, I felt equal at last. Instead of being an inadequate male, I was an adequate me -- whatever that was! A sissy? I didn't care. I was happy and fulfilled being the homemaking he/she I was.

“Judy, let me borrow some mascara, and your turquoise necklace. Then take me to dinner.”