I think I know where my mom's subconscious got the whole "hairy boobs" thing. I remembered a conversation we had recently. My sister has a catering business, for which my mom is her unpaid assistant, and recently Mom mentioned that they had catered the prom for a really small-town high school near my own small town.
I reminded her that years ago, in college, I won a Halloween costume contest (the only time ever) by going with a male friend as the prom king and queen for that high school. Only, of course, I was the "king," and my 6'5", well over 200lb friend Joey was the "queen." I wore a fabulous green polyester leisure suit, stippled five o'clock shadow on my face, stuffed a sock down my pants for a nice bulge, and snipped fur off a stuffed animal and glued it to my chest. (It goes without saying that my lovely polyester shirt (complete with those wonderful full-sail lapels so popular in the 70s) was opened far enough down so that the hairy chest was nicely on display.
Joey wore a cute little blond bob wig, and a "lovely" bright red taffeta/lace prom dress, which he bought unworn, tags still attached, from a thrift store. (The saddest thing was that it FIT him, and imagining the girl who bought it, and then took it to the thrift store unworn...well, it makes your heart hurt a bit, doesn't it?) He was unable to find heels to fit his enormous feet, so he made do with a little pair of white Keds. We paraded around all evening underneath a beautiful sparkly archway, and for the actual contest, we played sappy prom coronation music, and had people blow bubbles as we processed in. And then, of course, we had to play up the whole "lay one on the queen" routine, as I jumped up and down, attempting to land a kiss on his way-above-my-head lips, as he simpered coyly. Genius.
At any rate, my mother remembered the costume instantly--"remember the sock down your pants?"--so it's only a wonder that she didn't dream about me having some sort of sex change operation, I guess. Heh.