The Woman is my Mother

"So, perhaps compliment her on how she looks and especially at important milestones?"

"I think it would help," she told me. "If she begins eating right, she'll drop the easy weight. If she begins working out, the rest of the unwanted weight will be gone. She'll feel sexy again. She will have ups and downs as she'll continue to not see a purpose of doing those things without the object of her lust in her life anymore, but..."

"But," I continued, "if a grown man that she trusts genuinely treats her with compliments, she might find the will to get out in the world again?"

"I think it's an innocent approach to fixing the problem, yes."

I thought carefully about it, and it did seem simple enough. I never had a hard time complimenting Mom, and I realized it had been a long time since she was spoken favorably to in that way. My limited experience brought new questions, though.

"Where does this end?" I asked. "Of course, complimenting her on her progress is easy enough but is there any chance she might get involved in the process and attempt to use me to test the waters she used to swim in?"

I realized the question sounded odd, but it was the only way I knew how to ask if Mom would see me for something other than what I really was.

"That's where your maturity comes into play. You'll have boundaries and my recommendation to you is that when you've reached them, you start seeing how she feels about finding a new pool to swim in."

I laughed at her casual use of my own words.

"She knows we've talked about all this?" I asked.

"She knows that I'm in here telling you that your compliments on her body might go a long way with her trying to break out of the shell she built around herself."

I agreed with their assessment and developed a plan to move forward with Mom. I picked up what she said about having a second closet for her sexiest clothes and that I'd never seen such things in that house before. I wanted to use that as motivation to get her back to working out. When I got back to the car, she looked at me as if appraising my mood. I smiled at her and put my hand on her knee.

"That was a good session and I'm happy to help in every possible way that I can," I told her before I began driving us home.

I asked her about the second closet, and she told me that my sister's room used to be where she kept all that stuff. After we came around, she selected her favorites and put them in her dresser and boxed up the rest. Mom and Dad had an attic space access inside their closet. She had put the boxes in there for safekeeping but never got them out again.

"Do you still have the things in your dresser?" I asked.

She looked embarrassed and said, "No, I was angry, and I threw them away."

"Do you want to open up the things you have stored and show me?"

"I don't want to show you, but you can go looking for yourself if you like."

I made a neutral gesture to her and thought about the immediate future.

I wanted to see what Mom's past looked like and I wanted to abide by her wishes that she not be involved right away. Mom rarely left the house so, I found it hard to find time to look. Eventually, things stagnated, and I wasn't getting any closer to opening her world up. I decided to just do it whether she knew or not.

"If you would make dinner tonight, I want to take some time to look through those boxes," I told her.

She sighed dramatically and dismissed me as she got up and headed to the kitchen. I went into her room and into the attic space. Everything was dusty and there were a lot of boxes. I decided to open each one to see which ones had what I was looking for. After several minutes, I determined that all the boxes contained what I was looking for and that I would not have time to simply browse through them as I planned. Instead, I took the time I had and moved the boxes to my old room that I was staying in.

When I returned to the kitchen after she yelled that dinner was ready, she looked me over and surprised me with a small fit of laughter.

"Well, you didn't lie," I said, looking myself over and noting all the dust and sweat on me. "You clearly have not touched that stuff in a long time. You failed, though, to mention how much of it there was."

"Your father said the same thing, but we never had a dull time around here, either," she said, putting the plates on the table. "Come here."

I met her at the sink, and she began sponging me all over.

"When we're done, you'll get a shower and I will look through the boxes with you," she said in a serious tone. "You're a grown man and I have nothing to hide from you."

I kissed her on the cheek and told her I was proud of the many steps she'd taken. She admitted she did feel better but remained stubborn in her devotion to my father. We cleaned up and I showed her the piles of boxes I had in my room.

"I didn't remember it being that much," she said before stepping in.

She took a seat, and I opened the first box. I had an immediate thought and got up without a word and ran to my sister's old room. I took a handful of hangers off the dowel in the closet and went back to join Mom. I opened the first box completely and pulled out the first item. It was lingerie for sure, but tame considering all the possibilities in that line of clothing. I laid it out flat and did that with several others that followed.

"What are you doing laying those out like that?" she asked.

"I'm going to hang them back up in Maria's room. Remember, our goal is to get you back to when you were at your happiest."

She sulked and replied, "Without your father, I'll never get there."

"Let's focus on one thing at a time. I want you to fit in these again and I want you to try them on again soon."

"Oh, no! I can't wear these in front of you!" she said with wide eyes.

I dropped everything in my hands and asked her why she thought that.

"Are you really asking me that?" she asked.

"Mom, you said it yourself. I'm a grown man. I can handle it. Hell, I had prepared myself for having to bathe you if I things were worse than I thought when I first got here."

"Well, it's nice that you came prepared but that doesn't mean I'm going to parade around this house wearing this stuff—," she started but stopped suddenly.

She pointed to the next one that was to come out of the box.

"That one right there will never fit me again," she said. "It's one of my oldest ones and even after your sister was born and I lost all the baby weight, my boobs never fit in it again."

I picked it up and held it in the light.

"It looks nice, but sure, if you know it doesn't fit, we will toss it."

She agreed and we spent the rest of the night going through the boxes. I held each one up to her and determined its fate based on her reaction to it. If she recoiled in disgust, I tossed it away. If she stared at it with longing, I set it aside to be washed and hung. Sometimes, she would tell me she no longer liked the colors or the patterns that the item had so, we tossed those as well. By the end of the evening, All the ones we intended to keep were hung in the closet. The rest were in bags and the boxes had been broken down.

I took those out to the trash and when I returned, I stopped in the doorway. Mom was standing in front of the wide-open closet. I saw her head move back and forth as she was no doubt recalling all her memories with her husband. She started to howl suddenly and nearly collapsed to the floor. I ran to her and held her up.

"I'm here, Mom," I whispered to her as I held her.

She sobbed harder than I'd ever seen before. Her body shook as she mumbled things about her husband and how he'd no longer get to see her. She got angry and shouted at me for bringing up the painful memories of her past. I held her tighter and reassured her that they weren't painful and that she will always have the memories of his reactions to her in those outfits to make her smile.

We stood there for a long time until she turned to face the closet again. I wrapped my arms around her as she looked at her past again.

"I cried every day for months after he left but I never let myself go like that. Thank you for being here with me. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

I rested my chin on her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

"If I'm helping, I'm happy to be here. If I'm not, I'll do better. I won't leave you to face all of it alone again, though."

She turned her head toward me and gave me a genuine smile. I saw her eyes looking at mine as best she could.

"Tomorrow, we will clean the workout room," she informed me.

I was elated to say the least. I hated everything she had to go through to get her to move forward, but it seemed everything was going in the right direction.

Sure enough, the following day we got started. I moved everything out that shouldn't be there and dusted everything else off. She wiped all the equipment down and we plugged everything back in. I was gathering up our cleaning materials when she returned. She was wearing tight shorts and a sports bra. Her hair was up, and she looked motivated and ready to begin.

I looked her over and took note of a couple items of interest. First, it was like her old self was making an appearance. I hoped it was a permanent change. Second, it wasn't her body that looked wrong, it turned out to be the clothes she was wearing. She had gained some weight, but her frumpy clothes make it look worse than it really was. She saw me looking at her.

"I'm going to weigh myself and set a goal. Do you want to join me?"

"Yeah! Let me put this stuff away and get changed."

I did exactly that and when I returned, she was writing her weight on the white board. When she heard me, she turned around and asked me an interesting question.

"This is me now," she said, holding her arms out and spinning around. "What weight do you think I should shoot for? What do you think will make me look good?"

"You already look good, Mom, but I get your point. One of the first things you should do when setting goals is to make them achievable, even if the goal is not where you want to be in the end. That said, it's not about where you want to be, it's what's achievable that will motivate you even more."

She looked back at the weight she wrote on the board.

174 was there in big letters.

"Let's start with losing five pounds. It's a real goal that should be obtainable in two weeks. From there, we will keep setting small goals until you're comfortable and happy."

"I like that!" she announced before writing 169 on the board.

"Great, let's get started."

We set several milestones over a few months, and she met all of them at her own pace. She was as thin and in shape as I ever recalled and took the time each week to praise her progress and her appearance. Her smile appeared more and more often, staying longer each time. Maria made several phone calls to me after her visits to shower me with compliments over how far Mom had come. I was proud of myself and told my sister that the journey was good for both Mom and I together. I felt healthier and happier, too.

It wasn't long after her goal was reached that mom did something wildly unexpected. As she was showering after a workout, I got up and began to get our evening meal started. Mom shouted from her room that it was her turn to get dinner ready and that she would be out shortly.

"It's not about turns, but whatever!" I mumbled, walking back to the sofa.

"I heard that!" she announced.

I snickered to myself and felt happy that things appeared to be back to the way they used to be for the most part. I clicked through movies on the streaming service until she appeared from her bedroom. It's important to note that at no point had I determined that my job there was done nor was I considering moving back to my place. Truth be told, I had come to enjoy where I was and thoughts of just not renewing my lease had begun to take hold.

I saw Mom walk out of the hall and into the kitchen to pick up where I left off. I swiveled my body as I sat and took in the sight before me.

Mom was wearing one of the outfits we had hung in Maria's closet. It was a unique mix between what some would take as lingerie and what others would take as a bikini swimsuit. From the top, her breasts were held up and together by a dark forest green, silky garment that looked almost like the top of a formal gown from the front but resembled a lacy bra in the back, complete with bra-style hooks. Her mid-section was bare and toned well. The bottoms were the same color and material. They hugged her cheeks well. It was almost as if she were wearing wet underwear. I could see the outline of her ass crack from the top to where it disappeared between her legs. Her legs were also well toned all the way to her feet where she had short heels on that matched the color of her skin.

I'd never regarded Mom as a woman to be lusted over, but I could see how Dad fancied her. She was stunning and most of all, confident. I watched her for a while and noted how she seemed a little unsteady in shoes she clearly had not worn in a long while. I went from ogling my mother to recalling the last time I was in the therapist's office.

I need to make sure she doesn't regret taking this step with me, I thought.

I got up and stood near the table, still having a full view of her.

"Mom, turn around and let me see you," I said confidently.

Without hesitation, she turned and stretched her arms out. She had a weak smile on her face, and I knew my next words would make or break her.

"You look amazing! Having never seen you in an outfit like that, you picked the perfect one! You still have it in ya!" I told her with a beaming smile.

Mom's face turned a slight shade of red and the smile she wore reminded me of a schoolgirl who just got her first compliment from a boy on the playground. She seemed shy but happy.

"It's not too much?" she asked.

I thought the question was funny, so I responded in kind.

"I was worried you might think it was too little, but hey, whatever you're comfortable with!" I told her.

She threw the dish towel at me.

"You know what I mean! You like it, though?"

"I do. I love everything that I'm seeing in and on you right now, Mom. I'm proud of you!" he told her.

Her face changed and it looked like she was going to cry.

"No, don't cry!" I said loudly, holding my hands out toward her.

She waved her hand at me and said, "It's just been so long since someone complimented me, much less while I was wearing this!"

I went to her, lifted her head up and looked into her eyes.

"You're beautiful," I said as she pulled me into a hug. "Now if you insist on making dinner in this, I suggest ya hop to it! I'm hungry!"

I went to walk away after she released me, and she said something that gave me a glimpse into her past.

"Typical! You always want your dinner before we..." she said before stopping herself.

I knew what she was going to say, and I knew she had taken herself back to when it would have been my father there instead of me. She gently placed everything on the counter and paused for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she said, not looking at me. "I got excited and forgot for a moment."

"That's okay," I told her with compassion. "Did it make you happy to go back in time, even if it was for just a moment?"

She turned her head to look at me and she smiled.

"It did, actually. It might have been the first time since he's been gone that I thought about our past and the memories made me happy."

I beamed a smile at her.

"I'm glad," I said, winking at her before returning to the couch.

Days turned into weeks, and she randomly appeared from her room in a new outfit to show me. Most were as innocent as the first one, but they were getting more and more revealing as time went on. I loved the confidence she was building but an alarm went off in my head. I felt like I was beginning to be used as a replacement for my father. I cautiously moved forward with her until she made the move to discuss what was happening.

That particular evening, she wore what could never be mistaken for lingerie. Everything was lace and the material was present where it needed to be with little else. That's not to say she wore a micro thong, but more of her breasts and cheeks were visible than ever before and the cloth over her mound was about as narrow as I'd ever seen. She also began moving around the kitchen like a model. She took long, determined steps, and shook her hips more dramatically. Her butt and breasts would shake enough for me to take notice and for the first time, I looked at her like a man looking at a well-cooked steak he was hungry for. She noticed before I did and brought it up.

"You're looking at me," she said with her back turned to me.

"I am. I've never seen you in such clothes or move the way you're moving."

"Do you want me to change or put on a robe?"

She was putting the ball entirely in my court. I didn't think it would be a blow to her confidence if I told her I think she should. It would be as simple as rolling back the choice of outfits. I had questions for her, and it seemed the proper time to bring them up.

"No," I said plainly.

She turned to face me.

"How do you think I feel about you staring at me?" she asked.

What a question, I thought.

"I think you like me looking at you," I said. I needed to be cautious from that point on. "From a distance."

She turned around with plates in hand and set them on the table. She pointed to the chair I always sat in, and I took a seat. She stood beside me and waited there.

"What's going on?" I asked, wondering why she wasn't sitting.

"Peter, I want to show you what things were like in this house before. I didn't sit until your father approved of the meal I made for him. I know it sounds funny, but he loved to praise me. He also loved to touch me as he tried the first couple bites. I don't expect that from you, no."

I caught her choice of words. She didn't expect it, which would have left the door open to it if she thought I wanted to.

"I would then sit, and we would have our meal together. When we were done eating, I would do my best to do the dishes while he did his best to distract me," she said with a reminiscent smile. "It was our fun. I loved dressing up sexy for him and I loved his compliments. They came in the form of words and sensuous touches."

"I'm guessing sex almost always followed dinner?"

"Yes, and I'm sure you picked that up a few weeks ago when I let slip where my mind went."

"I did."

She stared at me. I stared at her.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I think you had experiences that you'll remember forever and smile each time you think of them," I told her. "You look amazing!"

I wasn't sure at the time why I added that. I was only sure that my body was starting to react.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Sometimes, I would come out here nude just to tease him."

She was testing me, and I knew it. I needed to know why.

"I'm impressed at the confidence you've rebuilt over the last couple months. Why do you think you offered that little nugget just then?"

It was an odd situation to say the least. It felt like we were each other's therapists asking probing questions of the other. I knew it was us simply asking each other questions we wanted answers to. It seemed we both knew we were walking on a high-wire and any wrong move or question could be catastrophic.

"You mean why did I tell you I sometimes cooked naked for your father?" she asked as she sat across from me.

"Yeah. Are you wanting to do that now?"

She shuffled around a bit in her seat.

"Let me rephrase that question. Do you need to continue what you've started to keep building yourself up?"

"Let me ask you something. How would you feel if I showed my body to you? I would not usually have this conversation with a grown man in my home, but you know why I have to ask."