When I was growing up, everybody's mom wore dresses.
Even around the house, which is I guess why they were called house dresses.
They were usually a jaunty print with belts designed to cover the bulges in the middle.
Corsets were out back then.
In the early 60s, everybody's mom looked like Ma Kettle.
Except my mother.
My mother always wore pants. I think she was more influenced by Katherine Hepburn than Ma Kettle, but then, my mom was as equally skinny as Kate Hepburn with the same kind of bobby-pin curled hair.
By the time I was a teenager, everybody's mom wore stretchy pants made from whole families of polyester. And sweaters with kittens and baby tigers. If they wanted to be fancy, they went with bejewelled tops that made them look like hookers, with big cleavage.
Needless to say, my role models have made it difficult for me to make good fashion choices.
When I was young, I used to look like Jane Russell, and I liked to wear inappropriate clothes, like halter tops and hot pants. Remember then?
When I married Mr. Big, he dressed me to look like a Glebe housewife -- you know the ones -- with the big handknit sweaters and cotton skirts to the ankles. I was in my thirties but I looked like I was in my fifties.
After Big decamped for another woman's vagina, I got all skinny again, thanks to the stress and loneliness and started dressing slutty again. It was, thankfully a short-lived phase.
If I'd kept this up, I could have been on Dr. Phil. Name of the show?
I have a slutty mother who dresses like a hoe.
Fortunately, I married Scott and got fat and have spent the last ten years wearing t-shirts from Bali, Hawaii and golf tournaments via Value Village along with yoga pants or gym shorts. The footwear is equally fashionable Mephisto sandals or running shoes.
I'm thinking, now that I'm dropping some weight thanks to the gymnasty and the handy diuretics Dr. Ben gave me, it's time to make a new fashion statement that is age appropriate.
My new role model is?
MEGAN.
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