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L’il Sis gave me the heads-up on this one a couple of days earlier. So I was fully prepared.

The Mom emailed me middle of last week to say she was having some kind of fashion situation and wasn’t sure if her tights (or pantyhose as she insists on calling them, though that word makes me cringe) were too slutty.

It has taken years, but I have finally learned not to be drawn into this kind of conversation because it will only end badly for me. Fellow humans take note: if your mother, daughter, girlfriend, or sister ever asks you if she looks too (whatever word, your choice here) in whatever it is she’s wearing, just say no, and then arrange to leave the room and be very busy for the next several hours.

I had received this email and since The Mom does not ever ask me questions about her fashion because she thinks I’m the biggest prude going, I ignored it. It was only at the weekend after we Skyped that I came to understand she was seeking advice. Which was strange, but then since L’il Sis moved to the city The Mom hasn’t quite been the same. She needs a fairly constant dose of girl-bonding – how I provide that is unclear but there you go. I mean, sure I’m a woman, but I refuse to do anything that might be part of a Sex in the City plot line with her.

In a rather strange twist of circumstances, The Mom was worried that her ensemble ran the risk of not being appropriate for the dinner-dance thing she was due to attend (side note: I had no idea people still held dinner-dances, but think the fact that The Mom knows people who do and then attends, is pretty adorable). Normally, and by that I mean, whenever she’s going out with me, thinking about whether or not her outfit is acceptable is not a concern that weighs her down at all. L’il Sis and I are both quite big fans of a camisole or other silky lady version of a wife beater. Mostly because The Mom is fond of a good sheer top. So this was quite unusual, this moment where it dawned on her that perhaps she was drawing too much of the wrong kind of attention to herself.

That she made her b/f come round early and deliver his verdict was also very cute.

What was funnier however, were the messages L’il Sis and I were exchanging, unbeknownst to The Mom.

Normally with our lot it’s The Mom who serves as Head Disemminator of Information and News. Which means we all report to her, give her a breakdown of the weeks’ activities and such like, and then she disperses the news as is appropriate. So I get the lowdown on Crazy D’s life and L’il Sis’s via the medium of The Mom. I believe this is the traditional method used in all families.

But since L’il Sis was in town around the same time as The Mom’s Week of Going Out, she gave me a pre-debrief.

Our messages were short and to the point:

OMFG, your mother is adorable right now.

WTF is she doing?

Wait till you hear it from her, s’better.

What’s she done?

Seriously, totes adorbs.

WHAT?

Hint: she used the word slutty.

FFS.

S’okay. T’was cute.

Hunky mentioned?

Nope.

Thank fuck.

Msg me when you get download.

Later, after The Mom had regaled me with her tales of a very social week (three outings in one week is more than our lot can handle in a month generally, so all in one week well… no one was sure she’d make it), after she had beamed and giggled like the teenager she is, delighted with having got away with something risqué and then – and this comes as no surprise to the rest of us – having charmed and talked the ears off people who were essentially perfect strangers, I messaged L’il Sis.

OMG she had the best week, I wrote.

L’il Sis replied: she is living her best life. Every. Day.

I know, right? I replied.

It’s funny, The Mom always thinks we’re making fun of her for enjoying getting dressed up and being taken somewhere nice. We’re not. We’re delighted (and appear able to only express ourselves through sarcasm and irony most of the time) that she gets such a kick out of it, when to us, the idea that we’d not only have to go out and be social, but also look nice doing it, is just so exhausting that it doesn’t merit thinking about.

But I’m pleased The Mom’s had such a nice time, and that regardless of her age, she makes an effort. One might even say in this regard she’s rather a good role model.

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