Well, my wife finally caught me playing dress-up with our daughter. I don’t care. I’m not ashamed. I’m proud that I can be adaptable with entertaining my daughter… and that I can actually fit into my wife’s skirt and bra. Well, I had to make some modifications… specifically I had to tie 2 bras together to get them to fit around my chest and had to wear the skirt more as a long shirt. I think I broke the zipper. They aren’t as tough as jean zippers. I think she was probably most upset about me stretching most of her underpants (took me a while to find a colour my daughter approved of) – I could have sworn I was a size 2… either that or the massive pile of leg hairs I left in the bathroom from my afternoon shave. I’m not going to forget that ill-considered decision any time soon (already I have half a dozen in-grown hairs… how come no one on the how-to-dress-like-a-woman forum mentioned that?!) Despite the trail of damaged clothing and ruined cosmetic products, my daughter had one hell of a time pretending to be Lady Gaga, eating lipstick, running mascara through her hair and helping daddy try to figure out how to wriggle out of various pairs of painfully ill-fitting frilly undies. Ah, the memories she’ll now forever have.