Some daughterly advice for your father

While you're retreating up the stairs, you faintly hear Gwen still talking to your father downstairs. You pause, crouch down and try to listen to some of what was being said, but... at best you could make out Gwen mentioning the words "****," and "Relaxing." Man that sounds great just about now.
Previously, you were well past the drinking age and enjoyed going to parties almost weekly. But... your current body? This girl? Sure as heck ain't even of drinking age, so getting your hands on some booze wasn't going to happen anytime soon. You're lucky if you could get your hands on a drivers license.

Gwen continued talking for another minute or something, but it was impossible to hear any more details... aw well. You get back up with a hand still in front of the open crotch of your pajama pants. There's no way you wanted anyone else to get a glimpse of your temporary lady bits. It was difficult to tell why, but it simply felt... uncomfortable to have others looking at your private parts. Even if they weren't truly yours.
Does a vagina even count as private part? It's not technically there. A dick is a part since it's actually there and can be grabbed, but a vag is more like an empty void, nothing to physically grab. It's a private void.

Standing there by the stairs, you sagely nod to yourself while rubbing your chin. Books will be written about your discoveries. Or at least a post in an online forum for shower-thoughts. Nonetheless, you turn around and get back to your own bedroom to find some more appropriate clothes. To heck with Gwen's insistent suggestions that you shouldn't risk revealing your true self.