I know I shouldn’t have done it but I just couldn’t help myself and it felt so surprisingly good at the time. My partner had gone out for the day leaving me on my own in the house. I was expected to do the housework and, having done it fairly quickly, wondered what do next. Television was rubbish. The radio was o.k. But didnt really grab my attention, it merely provided a background noise. I hovered, looking at the pile of magazines on the coffee table. I was so bored that I picked one up and started reading it. I found that SHE magazine actually provided a good read. My experience of m magazines had left me with the distinct impression that gossip was news and pictures said more than words. But this was different. This was interesting stuff.

I was left wondering why I didn’t make more myself anymore. Why did I think that beauty was not for me? Why shouldn’t I be beautiful too? I decided there and then that I would pamper myself and see what happened, see how I felt about that dowdy tired looking person I see in the mirror each and every day. I ran the bath and filled it with something creamy and aromatic. I luxuriated in the foam. Smooth legs are something to aspire to every day, or sit seemed to suggest in the magazines, so out came the razor and off went the hair.

Having bathed and oiled my skein I dug deeply into the drawers for the most expensive silky panties I could recall buying, so long ago I count remember when. Oh, yes, and the stockings, still in their packet, and where was that suspender belt? I fount it hidden beneath the boring bras, but on top of the lacy half cup bra that was bought for a special occasion moons ago. I slipped into them. Oh, the feel of nylon being roiled up my thighs and fastened to the suspender, the silk of the panties, and the way the high heeled court shoes altered the way I walked. You hare how you dress. You do judge a book by its cover. This felt so good. A dress. I needed a dress. I rummaged through my wardrobe until I found that old classic little black, brought when chocolate was the new black, dress. Knee length velvet. It all felt so good, but still that face haunted me in the mirror.