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"Well, I don't know about that," mum replied, "But it suits me all right, does it?"
"It certainly does," I assured her.
I asked her to put on the blue dress she had worn to the Birthday celebration. Mum looked doubtful, but I told her that I remembered it was a really nice dress, and that I'd like to see her in it again. She still hesitated, but then went into the bedroom to change. When she returned with it on I couldn't conceal my delight.
"You look gorgeous," I told her, "I can certainly see why you attracted the men."
"Are you sure it wasn't just the chance to ogle my boobs?" mum said.
"Well, they do look really inviting," I had to admit, "But the whole package is pretty darn hot," I said earnestly. To say that it was a snug fit would be something of an understatement, it followed every curve of her voluptuous body. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She patted the swell of her tummy. "I think it makes me look fat," she complained.
"Nonsense," I scoffed, "You are beautifully proportioned. If you weren't my mother, I'd be making a move on you myself." I tried to make the comment sound light-hearted, but although mum's eyes widened, she didn't seem to be totally taken aback by this admission. She gave me a penetrating look which I couldn't interpret, but said nothing.
However, the last thing I wanted was for mum to feel conspicuous and uncomfortable wearing this outfit. Our usual country pub where we went for lunch had a predominantly older client__le, with most of the women dressed in a fairly restrained manner. So I suggested we go to a town centre pub for a change, where there was likely to be a younger and more fashionably dressed crowd, and mum readily agreed.
She certainly received some approving looks from the men in the pub when we went in, even though most of them were with their wives or girlfriends. Mum must have been feeling self-conscious though, and was drinking faster than usual, so instead of her usual two glasses of wine, she had finished her third glass by the end of the meal. I did notice she was a bit unsteady as she rose from her seat, so it was a good excuse to put my arm snugly around her waist.
Mum had already said that she really needed a new pair of jeans, as her existing ones had become too tight for comfort. I wasn't sure that jeans would be a sensible option, as they don't have much give in them, and if mum was still putting on weight, as I suspected, they wouldn't fit her for very long. Mum saw some pairs that she liked, but as I was paying I insisted we kept on looking.
Eventually I saw something that I just had to persuade mum to try on. It was a pair of blue lycra stretch leggings. I selected a bright red crossover top with a plunging neckline in an equally stretchy material to go with them, and told mum to try them on. I asked mum what size she was. She looked at me ruefully.
"14," she replied, after a slight hesitation, though I think we both knew she was by now well on the way to being a size 16. As luck would have it, they didn't have a 14 in the leggings, so I told her to try on a 12.
Mum hesitated. "I thought I was supposed to be buying something that fitted me," mum protested, but I demonstrated to her that the material was indeed very accommodating, and gave her a size 12 top to go with it. She examined the top and said: "This is very small, and anyway, it's cut so low my bra will show."
"That's true," I agreed, "I think it would look much better on you without a bra," I suggested.
"You must be joking!" mum exclaimed.
"Go on," I encouraged her, "Just try it on, you'll see." Mum frowned, but took both the clothes into one of the fitting rooms.
I knew that with three glasses of wine inside her, her natural shyness would have been compromised.