Becoming Vera

I can remember when I turned into my mother.  Without desire and without direction, I turned into my mother.  I can remember my mother never owned a pair of blue jeans.  As a matter of fact, she was not a big pants wearer except when she was working.  My mother's staple item was a dress.  I don't ever remember her wearing sweat pants or even shorts.  Sundresses were a bit too risque.  She was trained to be modest in appearance even if it did not reach her heart.  About three years ago, I began to ditch wearing pants.  I picked up wearing them for the same reason my mother did.  They were functional for where I worked.  When it was clear that my job title was changing, I stopped wearing pants.  I looked just like my mother.  I donned a wig, painted my lips red and became the woman she always wanted to be.  My mother would turn over in her grave if she could see me living the life she never got to live.  I guess, I am living proof that curses really can be broken.