However much you are tempted – here is a warning.
If you have a teenage daughter, and if you take her shopping, and if she wants to try something on, DO NOT under any circumstances go into that changing room with her, (obviously I am thinking Mother/Daughter relationship here, not many Fathers would make it past the Fitting Room Police).
It will only end in tears.
Yours not hers. Serves me right. Trying anything on in those changing rooms is asking for trouble at the best of times: the fluorescent lighting, the tropical heat and the lingering whiff of BO is enough to put off even the most dedicated shopper. But Flo is a dedicated shopper, and would not be deterred by any of the above. Not like her lily-livered mother. But I’m tougher than that, dontcha know.
What reduces me to tears is Flo.
Lithe lean and lovely next to her old bag of a mother in that little cubicle. She was me, I was her decades ago, trying on the same old sequins. A cycle, wary, aware of the kinks and curves that she will face. I want her to fly, to float beyond and flee the crap and crud that heap in hurdles to trick and trap her.
She was me and I was her. Wearing sequins.