Taking photo

I looked for a proper summer former dress from the clothes shelves. I found one, a pure white with thin straps. It scooped down in back, did the same in front rather dramatically so the tops of my breasts were nearly exposed, and gathered around my waist with a narrow sash tied behind. And one of the girls brought me a pair of black leather point shoes,  high- heeled, cheap ones, with rough handiwork  on the straps.

Another little girl made up for me and made my hair fluffy on my forehead and temples and behind my ears. Then some white hair were forced  to come out. But they say it looks noble this way. Then I let it go.

A little lipstick on the face, round face, the shade of pink and white even vivid than the dress. My tan from swimming for years in swimsuit accented the whole outfit. My slim legs came out from under the hem looking just fine.

I turned first one way, then the other, looking at myself in the stood high mirror. That's about as good as I can do, I thought. And then, pleased said half out loud, "It's pretty good, let's go for taking photo of our family."