Turning into my Mum

I am wearing a singlet, to be a little more precise I am wearing a spencer.  When I was still under the authoritarian Mother's rule I had to fight long and hard not to be forced to wear a singlet.  At the time I had just started working and thin blouses were fashionable.  The material was thin so you could see the singlet through the material.  The girls at work used to make fun of me all the time so I had to go to battle with the Mother about my singlet wearing.  Absolutely everything I wanted to do was deemed wrong by the Horrid Woman.  Wearing of singlets was high on her list of appropriate wear.

I don't think anyone can imagine the battle it took for me to go to work with only a bra (perish the thought) under my top.  It took long arguments and then a few weeks of her not speaking to me just to make a point.  While this seems like such a silly thing to fight over it was normal for me to have to go through this process for everything that I wanted to do, not matter how trivial it was.  Nothing was trivial to That Woman.
Previously I fought a world war with her when I refused to wear my singlet under my bra.  She said it stopped one sweating and I countered with the (if you are not wearing a singlet you wouldn't sweat argument.)

Now to get back to where I started.  I am wearing a spencer.  What has happened to me?  Perhaps I am colder than I used to be before I got to be pre-senile.  Perhaps the Bossy Woman gene has finally surfaced.  All I know is that I am doing precisely what I fought for Mum about so many years ago.  Of course I would not be found dead wearing a singlet in the hot weather.  I won't need a singlet to soak up the sweat I will sweat on my t-shirt or tank top.

What next though?  I dread the fact that I might start to look for bloomers in the shops.  That is all I need to find bloomers and horror of horrors wear them.  If you don't know what bloomers are I suggest that you do a google search.  As I remember it they were always a revolting pinkie colour (perhaps flesh.)  They were vile and hideous things and of course much prized by the Awful Woman.

It is said that girls turn in to their mothers so I am watching out for further signs of my degeneration to the level of bossiness and a general refusal to see anyone's point of view but my own.  So far so good, however, I am wearing a spencer (what can I say?)