We are watching Claude Miller’s film An Impudent Girl at home. The actress is wearing a denim miniskirt.
“You’re checking out her legs, aren’t you?” my mother suddenly exclaims.
“You’re checking out her legs, aren’t you?” my mother suddenly exclaims.
I stare mutely at her, paralyzed by this fear I know so well: I have inadvertently done something wrong.
“Don’t even think about it,” she continues. “You’ll never be able to wear miniskirts like her. You’ll never be thin.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she continues. “You’ll never be able to wear miniskirts like her. You’ll never be thin.”
Nobody stands up for me.
 |
| Never. |
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