Hot pants and Ball gowns.

When I manage to find the time, I enjoy doing a bit of sewing, dressmaking in particular. And I’ve been looking through my wardrobe recently and somewhere along the line, my clothes seems have all morphed into rather shapeless garments… or sacks by any other name.

Not really sure when this happened. Probably something to do with being pregnant twice in the last four years, which does rather have an up and down effect on a girl’s waistline.

So I’ve been looking through the shops, scrutinizing the high street, even looking up catwalk trends on the internet and I have come to conclusion a pair of ridiculously short shorts are in order. So my pattern has already arrived and I am hoping my material will put in an appearance today, postman willing.

Now I just need to get my legs into shape, legs that have been used to years of wearing floor length dresses and skirts. And the picture below is NOT of my bottom. Sadly.

In the passage below from Braving Madness, Betty proves that you don’t need to show off your legs to get a man’s pulse moving. Sometimes less is more.

Dear Lord, it couldn’t be legal for Betty to dress like that. She’d looked stunning this afternoon but the way her glittering dark blue ball-gown now clung to the slender curves of her legs and gripped her hips like a second skin, was enough to make a man swallow his own tongue.

Edward eased his collar away from his neck with one finger, his skin slick to the touch. The other, more demanding, constriction couldn’t be dealt with in a crowded ballroom with fifty or sixty watchful eyes. Eyes all trained on him, all except hers. Two hours since his arrival at this damned affair and not once had she made eye contact.