I didn't know who I was looking at! I just stood there with my mouth open and feeling my way-too-youthful face with my way-too-small right hand. The image in the mirror wasn't reflecting me at all, but rather, a young boy of about 10 or 11. "11," my mind seemed to settle on pretty quickly and far too confidently.
The big steel-gray eyes underneath the longish, straight and smooth blond hair; and above the clear, smooth, and hairless boyish cheeks with a broad bump of a nose, was hiding the mind of a 36 year old Italian man used to seeing brown eyes beneath the shaved head full of dark whiskers; and above the sharp, angular features of a 36 year old man.
The image of a young boy with bright, steel-gray eyes staring back at me from the mirror did not at all match up with what I expected to see. Even with my shrunken and obviously youthened body. My heart pounding, I turned and closed the bathroom door to look at myself in the full-body mirror hanging on the inside of the door. I'm an 11 year old kid! Standing completely naked by now in front of the mirror. I couldn't believe it! These socks actually worked! I'm a now a young boy! Not even 12 years old yet! My balls haven't even dropped! Just small, smooth little marbled orbs, and the pecker thin and hairless!
The rest of my body was perfectly formed. Not at all fat, but also not "skinny" either. Great potential to have the same kind of body I had when I was just 36 years old. If I worked hard, I could have that again. But the thought of all those long, hard hours at the gym now completely vanished. Hell, I'm not even a high school student yet!
"5th grade," my mind thought! "I'm in 5th grade!" Still an elementary school kid! Not even middle school!
"Third shortest kid in my class," whispered my mind. "Only two girls are shorter than me!"
"My" class? I'm not in school! It isn't "my" class, just like this isn't "my" body! This isn't me! Although, I must admit, this is a really good looking little dude. I could stay like this. The thought brought a small smile to the young boy's face.
"Wait a second! Snap out of it! I don't want to be 11 years old!"
I continued standing there, looking at my kid's face attached to a kid's body. My 36 year old mind locked inside. The face. It's vaguely familiar. It looks like it could be a spitting image of that neighbor's son. Like a younger brother or something. But that's impossible. The neighbor only had one kid, and he's like 21 years old now. Not 11. He just turned 21 a couple of weeks ago.
"I just turned 11," the unbidden thought came. No! It can't be! I didn't just turn 11! I turn 37 in July! "Nah-uh, I just turned 11 on March 5th, a couple of weeks ago."
Where are these thoughts coming from? I have to change back. But I can't! Not yet! The guy at the store said I had to wait 12 hours between transformations. Great. I'm now stuck as a short little 11 year old boy for the next 12 hours. "With nothing to wear," I sighed.
I wandered back into the main living area of my house and slumped into the much larger, oversized recliner. I grabbed the blanket on the back of the chair, pulled up the foot rest with way too much effort, curled up, and fell asleep.