She picked up the TV Guide and froze in her tracks. The magazine slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the carpet. She turned to me, he face quizical and a little more than frightened like some part of her already knew something wrong was happening to her. Maybe it was the part of her that rembered what happened before.
Then something interesting happened; my mom smiled. Her body was changing too. Not in the physical sense, although that was happening too but in a way that I can only describe as life returning to her. He eyes lit up as the wrinkles decreased. The way she carried her body changed too. Before she had a kind of a slouch, her shoulders rounded and defeated with work, time and pressure. Now she stood up, her shoulders back, her breasts thrust forward. Her face glowed with new found health and vitality.
As the glow of youth returned to her face, it returned to her body. Her height was reduced by an inch or two. Her sweater and jeans became loose and formless on her new body. Her hair changed from a mousy brown to a more vibrant and shiny reddish-brown.
I changed her clothes into something more fitting to someone who was 17 yers old. Her sweater tightened around her and drew up around her waist. You could see her bare mid-drift just above her belly-button. I even tossed in a navel piercing for effect. Her jeans also changed. The legs of the jeans moved up her calves and thighs, transforming into a skirt. It stopped just enough to reveal her legs without revealing too much. She was 17 but she was still my mother.
When it stopped she looked at herself, then to me, then back to herself.
"What did you do?" she asked.
Before I said anything, she ran over to the mirror in the hallway and examined herself. After a few minutes, she came back to me. She looked so good, so happy. I have never seen her like that before.
"Let's get out of here." she said.