Good Grief, What Is She Wearing?

After my husband left me, I became like a modern day Rip Van Winkle. Emotionally, I was in a stress-induced coma, immobilized and unconscious. I grieved like an idiot—for nearly five years. Well, DUH! … even brown bears can’t hibernate that long (!) so I eventually had to wake up. And when I finally did wake up, I decided is was high time to stop all the stupid. And to do that, my first order of business was to dispense with the black garments of my widowhood—once and for all.

Seriously y’all, I really DID need a change of clothes. My husband hadn’t died—he simply left me for another woman. Big difference.

But I Like The Color Black, She Said

As anyone who knows me would attest, black has always been my favorite color. As a consultant working with physicians, a black business suit was a staple in my wardrobe. Besides, what’s more slenderizing than wearing all black?

After I took some time to thaw out from my extended hibernation, I took a long hot shower. Once I had my body temp back up to 98.6, I went searching through my closet to decide what I should wear. Y’all, I want you to know that I have always been a trailblazer. In other words, I had 50 shades of black in my wardrobe LONG before people became so enamored with the color gray. LOL.

I decided that ‘basic black and pearls’, a happy  countenance, bright eyes, and a wry smile would send a much better message about who I am than that sad-sack, Jackie-Kennedy, wife-in-mourning, black-veil-thingy I’d been wearing for so long. Ewww!

My humor imp ‘Erma’ had often told me: ‘You know, my dear, there’s a fine line between an outfit and a getup. The veil is not your thing.’

Welcome [Back] To The Jungle

I’d lost a ton of weight from all that grieving, so I thought … why not look through my ‘skinny’ clothes? And, bingo! There it was. My Little Black Dress. I grabbed it and proceeded to rummage through my jewelry box for that string of pearls. I scurried off to put them on. Then aster I finished dressing, I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

I noticed that I was standing a bit more erect. That rounded-shouldered, old-lady posture that I’d developed from spending all that time crying in fetal position was gone. I took a half a step back and looked at myself in the full length mirror. I ran my hands over my waistline and hips, straightening my beautiful black dress. Pleased with what I saw in the mirror, I nodded approvingly.

Something Was Missing

Still looking myself over, I had this nagging feeling that something was missing—but what was it? Hmmmm …. I already had my pearls on … What could it be? Deep in my gut, I felt that I needed a little something extra for my coming out party. Something tasteful … Something that would add a bit of pizazz to compliment my dress … Something to visually announce ‘the new improved me’.

With that in mind, I returned to the closet. Standing on my tippy-toes, I reached back and rummaged around on the top shelf again. Pay dirt! There is was! In a wooden box shoved up next to the wall, I found just what I needed: a black party mask for the festive occasion. Yep, that’s the ticket! I told myself.

I smiled at the ‘real me’ who—like Rip Van Winkle—was also facing a new world after having been in a long, deep, death-like sleep. LOL

Ready, Set, Go [Again]

I leaned in, checked my hair, and winked at myself. I then turned off the light and boogied down the hallway—singing my own version of the words to an iconic rock song. Fittingly, the song I was singing had a dark Scorpio vibe that I needed. And like magic, it was pulling me away from the fun-loving Leo Rising part of my personality, and over to my ominous Scorpio Moon side. Astrology types say that a female born with a Scorpio Moon [as I was] thinks like this:

“My darling, I might appear to be nice … but never lose sight of the fact that— although I have forgiven you—I will never …evah! … forget what you did to me. Capeech?”

Survey Says ….

As I walked on, I fully expected my Inner Erma to say “Silly Girl!” as she had said so many times whenever I admitted that I still loved Whats-His-Face. I figured she’d think I was being too ‘out there’, you know … with the party dress, mask, and all.

But surprisingly—when she heard the song that I’d picked out and was singing—she did something that shocked me. This time, she didn’t say, “Silly girl”.  Rather, she unfolded her arms … held them straight out and up … and gave me two [2!] enthusiastic thumbs up as I walked by.

It felt wonderful to finally be back … Back In Black.


Back in black—out the sack
I’ve been too long—I’m glad to be back
Yes, I’m—let loose—from the noose
That’s kept me hanging around
Been looking at the sky—-cause I’m on a new high
Bring on the hearse—gonna let him die

I got nine lives—cat’s eyes
Using every one—and I’m running … BYE!

‘Cause I’m back
Yes, I’m back
Well, I’m back
Yes, I’m back
Well, I’m back, back
Well, I’m back in black
Yes, I’m back in black