I woke up that special day, my 15th birthday. I flew out of bed, and ran into the kitchen, wearing only my yellow, woolly footie pyjamas.
“Woo there, young man!” my mother laughingly said, standing by the coffee-machine. “Where’s fire?”
“Sorry, mum! I’ve got presents to open. It’s my birthday, you know!” I said while wolfing down the breakfast.
“Yes I do know! But that doesn’t give you the right to run everyone and everything down in the process.”
I again said sorry, as I put the dishes in the sink. When I was about to go back to my room, my mother once again stopped me, by saying:
“Not that way! You might want to go in there first.” she said, pointing at the living-room door. I did as she told me, and found a huge stack of presents, but as I opened them, my heart sank.
Sure, there were lots of nice dresses and skirts, some of which were even ankle-long (my first ones), and pantyhose (some woolly, some not) and an I-pad, and just about everything else a boy my age could dream up, as affordable birthday presents, just not the ones I wanted the most!
Everyone else in my class had gotten them, at one point or another! It just wasn’t fair, me being born so late in the year! I too, wanted to show them off to everyone, dazzling them with the (fake) gemstones studded all around them. Then I remembered; all the dresses had high collars. Maybe that meant something? But then again; maybe not.
Suddenly, I heard my fathers’ voice behind me. He had sneaked in, while I was opening the presents. He was good at that: sneaking around. I don’t know where he got it from; it was just something he had always done.
“Missing something, are you?”
“No sir. Thank you very much for all the presents! It’s just that everyone else in my class has got them by now.”
“And you are afraid we’ve forgotten them, hm?” he smilingly remarked looking over the rim of his reading glasses.
“Yes, sir. Well, I mean: no, sir.” I stuttered.
“’Yes, sir’; or ‘no, sir’. Which is it? Make up your mind, will you, son.” he asked, still smiling, looking very much like the wizard Gandalf, in ‘Lord of the Rings’. He sure had a magnificent, long beard, albeit not yet white, if nothing else.
“Never mind! You go back to your room. I think you’ll find something there you want, waiting for you on your bed. Ah, ah, ah, ah, I mean ‘walk’, not run, mind you.” were the last of his words I heard, as I closed the living room door, maybe just a tiny bit harder than intended.
As I entered my room, I saw two more packages on my bed. When I lifted them up, I could feel one being heavier than the other. I tore the paper off, opened the boxes, devotionally, and there they finally were.
At last, my very own set of cuffs! Two sets, in fact: one lightweight and one heavyweight. Both sets had rhinestones, strewn all over them. Complete with neck, hand and ankle cuffs, chains, padlocks, and all of it made from the highest quality stainless steel! I turned around, to go and really thank my parents, but I didn’t have too. They were standing in the doorway, proudly looking at me.
“My little boy has become my big boy, now!” my mother said, with tears in her eyes. “Come on! Get dressed and we’ll help you put one set on! I want to see how they look, when you’re wearing them!”
I hurriedly took the pyjamas off, and put a pair of pantyhose and one of my new, ankle-long dresses on. Then my parents put the lighter set of cuffs on, cuffing my hands in front of me, so I could see for myself, how they looked with the cuffs on. I walked over to the full-length mirror to take a look, which was easier said than done, due to the fact the chain between the ankle-cuffs were a bit on the short side, something I would eventually get used to, I supposed.
“You look simply stunning!” mum exclaimed, clapping her hands, like a little girl. My father just smiled his enigmatic “Gandalf” smile, but I could see he was mighty proud.
Need I say, I was the envy of the class, when they saw me the next day?