As a woman who reached her peak of feminine attractiveness some 25 years ago, I am not inclined to dress in a manner that is at all revealing or provocative. These days I am tickled if something from my closet actually fits without pinching. If I can accessorize to advantage, so much the better.
This weekend, though, I was deemed a lascivious threat to adolescent males. While the initial situation caused me a moments embarrassment, I am finding cause to giggle as I reflect.
My husband I and I went to regular visiting hours at the fine establishment wherein my son currently resides. As we passed through the metal detector, the attending guard asked to speak with Tim and I out in the foyer. He explained that my shorts were too short, and my top was too low. Consequently, I would not be allowed entrance. However, if I would care to find appropriate clothing which would cover knees-to-neck, I would be allowed in to visitation.
May I pause at this point in my narrative to tell you how cute my outfit was? Cute in an over-40 way. Nothing I was wearing would be coveted by any female under the age of 30. The shorts, while not attaining my knees in length, are certainly are in no danger of revealing upper thigh, cellulite, nor yet a glimpse of my derrière. Navy and white printed shorts, and a navy draped-neck sleeveless blouse. The blouse is perfect for showing off a necklace, but not a whole bunch else. The shirt was maybe pushing it...if I leaned way forward.
There is, of course, a strict dress code for visitors which I have certainly read. It includes the admonition to avoid short shorts, or any clothing which would be offensive to a reasonable person. Also forbidden are clothing or tattoos with gang affiliation or drug references. After a cursory glance at this list, I deduced that none of its prohibitions would apply to me at any point in my life, and so I never looked at it again. Who knew?
So, here we were, facing a dilemma. Fortunately, my sweet sister, Dani, lives just a couple miles from there...and she was home. I called her and explained the situation. She invited me to come raid her closet, amidst a torrent of extremely vibrant laughter. Her laughter had neither diminished nor abated by the time I reached her doorstep. She had, despite her hilarity, managed to pull from her closet a number of her largest shirts. "Largest," I say, because she is approximately a size negative in clothing. The ensuing fashion show did nothing to quiet her hilarity. It didn't help that all of her large shirts are pale in color, and I had chosen to wear my most vividly patterned undergarments. You can imagine how this combination created a worsening state of immodesty than had existed to begin with. In her quest for elastic waistbands within her closet, she produced a skirt no longer than my forearm. Clearly, this wasn't working. Finally, we resorted to her fat-day sweats and one of her husband's shirts. Thus clad, I rushed back out into public.
The guard let us in this time, and Don seemed happy to see us.
The adventure concluded with me changing back into my own clothes, and returning the borrowed things to Dani. As Tim and I spent the rest of the afternoon running errands, I couldn't help but wonder how many lustful stares were surreptitiously following my immodestly clad self.
I'll admit that I had a bit of a naughty swagger for the rest of the day.
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