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It doesn't matter how few clothes my daughter wears, she still takes forever to get ready.I spent a rather intoxicating hour finding out all about Adrian.But next to her stood the most gorgeous hunk of a guy I had seen in a long time.Elegantly dressed in chinos, smart shirt and, I immediately noticed, good, clean shoes, he looked cool and sophisticated as he smiled confidently down at me.I remembered rather too much giggling for a grown woman, possibly some inappropriate touching of his arm... I woke up in the night when there was a noise downstairs.It was after midnight, and I wasn't expecting Ella back tonight.Since puberty, she had always punished me by parading her wildly inappropriate relationships in front of me.

I soon put a stop to that, however, by telling Ella how much I liked Alex and how I was glad she had found someone she could really relate to - Alex was history by the end of the week. I had my head under the kitchen sink trying to fix a small leak, and didn't bother to look to see - she would probably have just blanked me anyway."Hi, mum, lovely view! There was my daughter, still in her school uniform, skirt hitched up to well above mid-thigh, white blouse unbuttoned to show her bra and tied in front to show her midriff, heavy eye make-up and plum lipstick - the archetypal slutty schoolgirl.

Its i the present tense and is meant to provide immediacy. Update (2012/09/27): Nearly 9,000 views, a 4.7 rating, and only 11 comments?? If you read it, make a comment, it takes 2 minutes and its anonymous. Update (2012/11/03): All good things must come to an end. My attempts to get a man were hampered by the fact that my 18 year old daughter, Ella, still lived at home.

Update (2012/10/27): Okay, I'm over my petulant little hissy fit, thanks for your comments. My daughter and I had a love-hate relationship - I loved her unconditionally, because she was my daughter, and she hated me implacably, because I was her mother.

That's when I realised I was kneeling on the kitchen floor, wearing dirty slacks, a crumpled T-shirt and yellow rubber gloves, no make-up, my hair tied loosely up and sweat on my brow. Then I remembered what Ella had just said, and realised his first view of me had been of my fat arse, covered in stretched lycra, with visible panty lines on display. I scrambled to my feet, Ella disappeared upstairs to change, and suddenly I was alone with him.

I was totally flustered, offered him a glass of wine, which he accepted gracefully and politely, and apologised for my 'disgusting' appearance."You look wonderful, Mrs Henderson," he lied gallantly."Oh please," I twittered, "I look a mess, and call me Julia." Good grief, I thought, what am I, 13?

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