After a trip to a lingerie shop to get a corset,I tried on and rejected at least ten dresses before I found it, and otherthan the flaring skirt, it was just about what mom suggested. Then Ipicked up some new shoes and clutch bag to match, earrings in gold andblack, also with a necklace and bracelet to match. Then some new perfumethat I liked. Lastly, some very red lipstick and gloss. It was my veryfirst attempt at getting dressed up that fancy, and I hoped that I couldpull it off. Either he would be delighted or he wouldn't. I knew that Iwould be, and because it would be my very first actual date, I was veryexcited. I did not show mom what I bought, preferring to let her get asexcited as I was when she saw it for the first time.By the time I had reached the point where I could actually accept a date,months had passed, almost a year in fact, and I had somehow morphed intothe girl I seemed to be. Everything I did felt natural, as if it weremeant to be, and accepting a date did not seem. It said to go to Dr. Bishop for sexual disease testing and gave the address. My results would be mailed to headquarters and if I passed the additional background check, I would receive a card in the mail.I went to the address and submitted my body to the doctor's poking and prodding. He took saliva, urine, blood and stool samples and gave me a thorough checkup. The cost was $2,000 dollars. I had already been informed of the price from the phone recording and forked it over to the smiling doctor. He wished me 'good luck' and sent me on my way, tucking my hard-earned money in his pocket.Three long weeks passed with no card. Then, tucked in behind the electric bill was a stamp less envelope, my name written in block letters across the front. My card had come. It was plain white with a silver star on one side and a brown stripe on the other. I jumped for joy. I was in.I didn't go that night. I decided to get plenty of rest so that I could enjoy whatever festivities I'd encounter. I.
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