This story is dedicated my cousin, Rochelle, who bugged me about writing this, and who helped me get it going. Also, thanks to those who encouraged me to write this thingy. Hope you like it. :)

"Damn, Rose, will you please just pick a pair of frickin' pants?" I whined.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the girls in my family were going on yet another shopping spree. I would never spend my day shopping. I mean, going to those stuffy stores and fighting over a pair of jeans was definitely not my cup of tea. No wait. Not my mug of beer. Yeah, I like beer better than tea. Makes me sound more manly.

Anyway, Rose was making me help her pick out, what she called, her "shopping outfit". So far it's been about one hour and forty-eight minutes and she still hasn't picked out a pair of pants. Why must girls always take their dear, sweet time with clothes?

"I can't decide between this red skirt or this blue one," Rose said, deep in thought over her stupid outfit. She was holding out both skirts in front of her.

"Heh, maybe you should just wear a clown suit..." I muttered, and I seriously regret having those words come out of my trap. She gave me the most evil, deathly look imaginable; I about crapped my pants.

"God, Rose, take a joke. Just wear the blue one then," I said exasperated. Suddenly, I had a strange urge to try on a skirt. It looked kinda comfy, and I was bored out of my mind, so why not? As Rose turned around to pull on the blue skirt, I quickly grabbed the red one while she wasn't looking. Man, I was actually excited to slip this thing on. I ran to the bathroom and pulled on the skirt. As soon as it was resting securely around my waist, I galloped to the full-length mirror. Damn, I thought. I look fine. No, I look hott! Smokin' hott! But, jeez, I need to shave my legs. Oh, what the hell am I smoking? I'm a guy!

All of a sudden, I heard giggling. Rose, now joined by Alice, was standing right behind me and they were laughing like a couple of hyenas at my reflection. Deep inside, I was mortified, but of course I wouldn't show it. I'm probably the manliest man they know, and here I am, standing in a bright, red skirt.

"What?" I demanded. "Why are you laughing like a bunch of freaks?" Of course I knew why they were laughing. Muscle man is standing in a pair of chick pants.

"Hey, I don't laugh at you when you wear regular pants!" I declared.

"Emmett, I-," Rose started, but I interrupted.

"No, let me finish please! What's wrong with our society? Why can girls prance along in skirts and pants without getting made fun of? I mean, what if, one day, I want to feel free in a skirt? People will laugh! So my question is: why can't men wear skirts? Don't give me any crap about kilts. Those just look like plaid blankets. Why are men deprived of flowy, flouncy skirts!?"

I was out of breath from my little rant, and Rose and Alice were staring at me like I was crazy.

"Well, uh, yeah. We're heading out now. Later, Emmett," Alice said casually as she danced out the door with Rose following swiftly behind. They left me standing in the room by myself, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Out of the blue, I knew what I wanted to do with my Saturday.

"Edward! Jasper!" I called out to my brothers. "Pack your bags, men. We're taking a trip!"

"Um, where?" Edward asked.

"To the place where they have the perfect man-skirt!" I declared.