We are at the dacha for the long weekend, and papa modeled some new fashion. He wore a tank tops that the less sophisticated call “a wife beater”. He came to dinner dressed like that and while the rest of us were grateful for the appetite suppressant and decided then and there to start our diets, he decided to ask mama if she liked his shirt. The great thing about mama is that she doesn’t like to mince words.
“On you, absolutely not,” she told him. “On Sylvester Stallone, yes.”
Papa quickly changed. Into a burkha.