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Mom’s girly presents to me

I tore open the Santa paper to find a short red cocktail dress. “Try it on,” mother said, holding it up in front of me. “Just try it on once for mummy.” She stared at my offending Giants baseball cap and T-shirt. I grimaced. An inveterate tomboy and a closeted lesbian, I felt like an impostor in a dress. And in a red dress with the words “Santa’s Helper” bedazzled on the rear, I felt like an idiot. 

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