cimorene

Wax is getting all dressed up for a job interview in the playfully oversized clothes I like, that now fit her because she's lost weight and is only two sizes bigger than me, or something. So the grey flannel skirt that I cut apart and remade to ride low on my hips zips all the way up on her, albeit in a somewhat high-waisted manner. And one of the blouses I was going to throw out because I didn't want to wear it too big anymore completely fits her. Even though it does sort of gape in a pornalicious fashion over the boobs, but that's nothing that oodles of other women don't do in public. She can totally wear grey and muted violet and charcoal and white pinstripes, looking totally Business Wear-ish.

"Do I look like a grownup?" she said. "Do I look older?"

"I don't know about older," I said, "but you do look mature! Like you're going to work, as opposed to blending in with protective camouflage at a teenie concert."