The rabbit has taken to calling me Hootchie Mama. I'm not sure I should be offended because I don't even know if she understand what it means -- nor does my usual costume of jeans, black or gray sweater and boots fall into Hootchie territory.
Of course this summer I did decided to stock up on camisole tops which I wore with abandom after spending summers in this ferociously hot city sweltered in long-sleeved T's. But after passing 35, I decided to try and give up some of my angst about my not so perfect arms, and stomach, and well everything. (although tip for the day: Pilates is a miracle cure for anything jiggling in the mid-section. You think you may throw up mid-class, but the results are better than my years of running, swimming, treadmills, etc...)
Anyway, so I started wondering...did a s(mother) on the playground hint at my attire and the rabbit picked up on the word? She seems to think it's cool, and loves to sing about her Hootchie Mama while she draws. It hasn't affected her clothing style -- probably because I still dress her. Although, there is an Imelda Marcos lurking in there -- she has more pairs of shoes then me, changes them several times of day depending on where we are going, and recently absconded with a pair of my Costume National heels which she tried to teeter on in her room. I had to stop her -- after all, if she learns how to walk in heels now, what is she going to do in the 6th grade after school with her friends?