The walk of shame of the sissy

As you struggle to mince in your strappy high heels down the busy street, each step a cascading rustle of nylons on petticoats, limp wrists trembling in humiliation and your cheeks burning red but barely visible under your makeup as some group of giggling teen girls, barely able to contain themselves, puts you on Instagram (#omg #wtf #sissy!).
You try increasing your pace to hurry away from them but only succeed in adding a stumble to your step that causes your bubble butt, short fussy dress and jeweled butt plug to bounce even more, which further ring the tiny bells sewn strategically around your hemline, drawing even more attention to the ridiculous sight you present.
A bobby pin falls loose and a pink curl falls into your eyes. Despite the small crowd of tourists that stand around to snap your picture you stop, grabbing another pin from your purse to fix the stray. Then out comes the mini bottle of hairspray. The crisis averted, you’re on your way again when a teenager skating by makes a nasty remark that cuts to your core. As you never know when I will text and require an immediate selfie proving that your makeup is appropriately garish BUT still done to over- perfection, you flap a hand in front of your face, fanning your eyes to dry the tears that begin to form so that you don’t ruin your mascara….