If she had paid as much attention to the selection of husbands as she did her shoes, things might have been different. But things were certainly changing. She had let the hair grow in under her arms. It came in like narrow stripes painted down the middle of her armpits, soft and sparse. Everyone was upset. Her children were immediately suspicious; her daughter enquired if she was becoming a man, her son asked if she was becoming a lesbian. She denied everything. It felt good to accomplish something, to make something new without effort. But they were right to be suspicious.