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My Mom, bless her, is a real health nut. Been on this kick for all of my 18 years as far as I know. Whatever it is, she has a cure. Well, for most things that is. She couldn’t prevent my Dad from smoking three packs a day and dying at age 50 and right on St. Patrick’s Day too. Even though he had left us a half million in insurance, now Mom needed me more than ever and I just didn’t know what I could do except maybe stick around, you know, be there for her when she needed me. She knew the effects of stress on the body and at once put us on a new anti stress regimen to cope with Dad’s passing, St. John’s Wort and some other stuff, little enteric coated pills. The highest stress there is, is losing a spouse or a parent in my case. She did warn me that there may be some side effects to these herbs and so forth but not to concern myself and so I didn’t. She had me taking a couple of these yellow pills morning, noon and night and she had a capping machine that she used to make up the herbals. I don’t know how much it really reduced my stress but it did mellow me out in some ways I wouldn’t have expected. I’d expected that they’d maybe pep me up but instead, I was beginning to see things Mom’s way and just hung out with her. Maybe this was one of the side effects, just feeling closer to Mom. If it was, I liked it. We had not been all that close before as I had always identified with dad except for his smoking, which both he and mom warned me away from. So, outside of my nowhere job as a temp for Kelly Services, a pretty steady job actually, I decided to spend a little more time at home, at least until she got back on her feet and the shock of losing Dad wore off to a tolerable level. I still heard her crying a lot in her room at night. At the moment they had me doing data entry for a local manufacturer. I liked working for Kelly. They didn’t have a very strict dress code, just keep things neat and clean basically. I guess that was a good thing for me since it had been, oh, maybe six months since my last haircut. I fancied the way Adrian Paul kept his hair on the Highlander series but I was at least 3 inches past that already and Mom was starting to complain about it being dirty and stringy looking. I wanted to get it cut back some but she wasn’t buying it. "Whatever you do, honey, please don’t cut your beautiful hair." Well, it’s a mom thing I guess and so I promised to take better care of it and went up to the bathroom and gave it a good double wash and conditioning for a change. It took me every bit of an hour and then another 10 minutes of blow drying. Huh! I’d forgotten how nice it could look when it was clean. It was awfully, I don’t know...fluffy all of a sudden and bouncy but Mom actually gushed when she saw how nice it looked but it definitely needed some trimming so I made an appointment at Fantastic Sam’s. I always used the same operator, Trina. Mom had met her a couple times and they got along well. I’d planned to have a fairly short cut but Trina bathed and conditioned again and cut and when it was over, I’d only lost about an inch and came out with a body perm and a little lightening rinse. It was beautiful but it was awfully feminine, I thought, especially since she parted it in the middle and cut wispy bangs into it. "What was that all about," I asked? "Oh, your Mom called and gave me strict instructions not to waste your pretty hair on the floor of the shop, just a trim, she said." "And what about all the other stuff, the facial and the manicure with the clear polish?" "Your Mom suggested that too." "Oh, she did, did she. Hmm! Thanks Trina. It did feel good, I’ll admit." It was May now and I swear my hair was growing at least an inch a month. It was going to be getting warm and I had looked forward to a little shorter hair but I didn’t want to disappoint Mom. It was a real bother taking care of it with washing, brushing, conditioning and Mom loved it when I let it frame my face but I liked to just tie it up in a rubber band in a pony tail to keep cool. I knew Mom didn’t like that so I went and got some of those scrunchy things that girls wear and that placated her some, especially if I wore it at my crown like a girl instead of down at my collar. For one thing, it was cooler that way and I really did like the way it swayed back and forth, brushing against my neck. It felt kind of...I don’t know...sexy, and it tickled. "Okay Mom. What’s with not wanting my hair cut anyway." "Oh Dana, it just looks so nice when you keep it clean and styled a little. Will you just humor me and take care of it. I know it takes time, but it’s really worth it." "Okay Mom. I’ll take care of it. I do kind of like brushing it at night. It sort of calms me down and it’s something I really don’t have to think about when we’re watching TV." I wore it in a pony tail most of the time but Trina had it styled into kind of a long page boy with bangs swept off to the right. It looked OK I guess. It looked a little like the do Prince Valiant used to wear if you can remember that comic strip in the papers. Of course, it also looked a bit like Veronica Lake in the old Bogart movies too as it grew longer. When I let it fall around my face though, I was forever having to brush it aside and got into just raising a finger or two to do it or just tossing my head the way I’d seen so many long haired girls do. It seemed like an awfully feminine gesture but I guess I’d just have to make my peace with it since my hair seemed to mean so much to Mom. Mom thought that was cute. Coquettish, she called it, whatever that meant. I’d never heard the word before. Mom knew what Trina did to me at the salon and she went out and got me a big bag of those huge rollers to put in my hair after a wash. I didn’t even have the heart to argue with her. I just started setting my hair like Trina had. It felt really weird but it sure looked nice afterward especially when I back combed it a little for more body on top. The bushy eyebrows didn’t exactly go with the look though. Lately, Mom had been trying to get me to go shopping with her, you know, like to the mall, not the grocery store. I had decided grocery shopping wasn’t that bad and had volunteered to do it but clothes shopping? Forget it! She’d been ragging on me lately about the condition of my underwear and I said, "well, if you can’t stand it, then get me some nice new ones." Oh, she got me some nice new ones alright. Six pairs of the slinkiest, tightest hip riders you ever saw, and in colors too. And in stretch SATIN no less. I knew a lot of guys wore that kind of stuff now. Thank heaven they were just plain and nothing fancy. I wasn’t quite sure they were even men’s briefs but as good as they felt, I wasn’t sure I cared. They sure didn’t have a placket in them. I should have known not to leave that door wide open. The bag said Frederick’s of Hollywood on it. I’d forgotten that store was even there in that mall, it had been so long since one of my girl friends had dragged me in there. Well, at least I could still get at myself to pee, so I just let it go and enjoyed the exotic smoothness next to my skin. She also brought home a couple boxes from store called Chandler’s. It was two pairs of shoes, a kind of moccasin slip on with a little string tie on the vamp and a kind of low wedge heel. They were very comfortable and they made my feet look smaller. Whenever she bought me something, she always had to check on how I liked it and this time was no different. "How do you like your new briefs honey?" "Pretty sexy Mom. I didn’t know you shopped in that store." "Oh, I get some of my things there honey. Women like to feel special underneath their clothing even if other people can’t see it." "If your stuff feels like this, I guess I can understand that. Thanks for making me feel special." "And the shoes?" "Really comfortable Mom. I like the way they make my feet look smaller too. Thanks." "You’re welcome honey." Another thing she started bugging me about was keeping my hands nice. Every time I washed my hands, she wanted me to squirt some hand lotion on and perish the thought if I should throw a new set of spark plugs in my car or change the oil. "Dana, she’s say, you work in an office. They expect you to be neat and clean. Some of that grime and grease sticks under your finger nails for a week at a time. The quick lube can do it faster and almost as cheap. Let them do it from now on and keep your hands nice for the office please. Do it for me honey, OK?" "Alright Mom." My hands were getting really nice and soft though and that felt good and I wasn’t snagging my briefs when I put them on anymore. Mr. Trent, the district manager even commented on how soft they were the last time we shook hands. Boy, she was sure getting particular about how I took care of myself. Well, Dad sure wasn’t careful. I suppose she was just trying to protect me. I think she’s trying to turn me into a neat freak. I always have to look like I just stepped out of a band box lately, really clean and shiny. She even makes me wear an apron in the kitchen now, not that I cook much except eggs and toast but still she seems to want me powder fresh all the time. I have been helping her around the house lately as it doesn’t really seem fair that I should lay around, but she still doesn’t want me getting into anything that might break a nail or get me dirty. My nails have been looking a lot nicer lately, especially since Mom has been giving me something to make them stronger and Trina has been seeing to them too. I’m letting them grow a little longer than I used to now that I don’t have to be so concerned about breaking them all the time fixing stuff around the house or the cars and I can still type pretty fast.