But she looked at meand then said, "Uh, something's wrong. You, uh, just don't look'right.'" But after a few seconds she smiles and says, "But I can f...xthat," and she has me come over and sit down at her makeup table and shepulls out these little tweezers and plucks my eyebrows, and then sheputs some makeup on me, like eyeshadow and some lip gloss, and thenfluffs out my hair, and finally says, "There, doesn't that look better?"I looked in the mirror and man, did I look like a girl. And not just. To test her hypothesis that Santa wasn’t paying attention, Mathilda murmured, “Roxanne seems to be enjoying herself so much that I’m thinking about trying to do the same thing she is doing. Would that be ok with you, Dear?”“Yes, Dear”. Santa was not about to interrupt the flow of her speech, regardless of what she was saying. Most likely, she was asking for more chrome on her sleigh or another dozen housholed Elves. Seeing that Santa was too involved with the Elfish helper on his lap and. In theshower I enjoyed the sensation of washing my tits, cupping my hands tocover them with body wash, feeling their shape and weight. They werestill firmly attached to my skin and I really felt that they were partof my body. I would miss not having them. As I dried myself I wonderedwhat it would be like when they were not attached. I could still wearthem inside my bra, but I guessed it would not be quite the same.I watched myself in the mirror as I walked to and fro in bra, knickersand. His chin shot up. He bawled, ‘Why don’t we have music? Why aren’t the girls dancing? It’s two-o’clock.’ Mama clapped her hands and called to the girls. The dancers hurried slowly to funnel up the stairs onto the stage, though some clambered straight over the stools. After a short pause, the loud, canned music started up, and the girls moved disinterestedly to the music while continuing their conversations. Daddy walked to the door and shooed the door girls outside, then followed to ensure that.