(Caption) Confessing to the Postgirl

…What did you just say? You l-like me?

D-don't joke around… Actually, I'm a guy. Really, I'm not lying. You look shocked, but I get it — dressed like this, I do look like a girl. Honestly, I didn't expect things to turn out this way either. Back then, I kept failing one interview after another. A friend told me, "You'd have better luck if you looked more like a girl," so I gave it a try. In the end, the only job I landed was this post delivery one.

Huh? Oh, no, I wasn't born looking like this — it's makeup! The first time I tried putting it on, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I picked the wrong shade of foundation and almost turned myself into a ghost. Later I learned to start with a primer, then apply the lightest base. I didn't even know how to contour at first — my face looked all round and puffy, like a little bun. Eventually, I figured out how to brush light brown shadow along the sides of my nose and highlight the bridge just a bit. That's how I ended up with this look. Lip color? At first, I thought pink looked too fake, so I mixed in a bit of rose-brown. Funny thing — people said it made me look gentle. You've no idea, when I looked in the mirror, I could barely recognize myself.

My hair? That's a whole project on its own. It used to be short, but I let it grow for nearly half a year for this job. Every day after washing, I curl it bit by bit with an iron to get this soft curve, then set it with spray. I have to — straight hair looks too stiff and gives me away. The bangs are the hardest. They split easily, so I fix them strand by strand with my fingers and finish with holding spray. Honestly, now if I don't style it like this, my face feels strangely empty.

This hat? It's part of the official uniform. I actually like the color — kind of a teal shade — and the dark red ribbon matches it perfectly. Don't underestimate that little flower, though; the pin's sharp enough to stab you.

The outfit's double-breasted, with firm shoulder lines, and the frills on the cuffs have to be carefully ironed every time or they crumple up badly. The skirt's heavier than it looks. It flutters when the wind blows, but when I start running, I can really feel the weight swing with each step. The belt around the waist is fixed, cinching it just enough to shape the line. It looks elegant, sure, but summer is absolute torture.

You mean the bag? It's full of letters. Looks small, but it holds a lot. I added the squirrel keychain later, thinking it'd look a little cuter. People said it suited me… so, well, I just left it there.

Oh, right — the socks. At first, wearing knee-high ones felt so uncomfortable, like they were squeezing too tight. But when I saw the full outfit in the mirror, I realized they were kind of essential. Now, putting them on every morning feels like flipping the switch into "work mode."

…You're asking if I've gotten used to it by now? Hmm, yeah, I guess I have. After all, I go out like this every day — even my movements feel natural, like second nature. Still, sometimes, when I take off the makeup and see my bare face in the mirror, there's this strange disconnect. That me, and this me — they feel like two different people.

But, no matter what, I'm still a guy. So I can't… You don't mind? You still insist on being with me?

…You really are something. Saying that kind of thing makes it hard for me, you know. It's not that I dislike you, it's just—

…Fine. I won't argue anymore.

I—I'll say yes. But you have to promise… you'll always treat me well, okay? My dear ❤~