Slip and bra

I'm standing in the kitchen cooking, in my slip and bra. Not conventional attire for me but here I am anyway. I don't usually do my household chores dressed like this. But today I came home and shed the dress and left the rest, not bothering to finish. I’m never like this. I’m either naked or dressed, yet here I am stuck in the process of change. This thought gives me pause. Looking down I see the beginning of the midlife bulge just below the surface of the silky material. Slips use to be something of a confinement, a chore I didn't always compete before going to church and was scolded as a result of. Now that I've gotten older I wear one whether or not I need it. The dress can be long and heavy and it seems the slinky little thing finds it way on before I dress. Though I don't even see them as slinky anymore. Just another change. I remember sometimes my mother would be dressed like this. I remember there being a sense of anticipation from her half dressed state. In the process of change, before an event of some sort. Her slip and bra: putting on makeup. Her slip and bra: doing her hair. Her slip and bra: waiting for her 2 tomboy girls to get ready for something. Her slip and bra: playing solitaire as she boiled mad because we weren’t going somewhere with us acting like this. Her slip and bra: waiting for a change. Sometimes she would do as I have done. After taking off her nice clothes she would wait a while, usually in the summer, cooling off before she dressed in her casual clothes.
Stop typing, return to stir the sauce I’m making “fresh from my garden”.
This action in this costume feels so domestic. And I guess I should be getting domestic. I am the age my mother was when she had me. Married, 2 kids, home maker providing for her family from 2 gardens an apple tree and a grape arbor. Making contributions to society in natural ways before it was cool or p.c. to do.
I think all this and take a break from stirring and slicing to turn to the WI-FI laptop in the kitchen. Domestication is a costume that gives me pause to see me in it. It’s just in the process of change. It’s just my slip and bra.