When I Shout It Sounds Like Whispers

It has come to my attention that while I go about my business other humans in my immediate vicinity can actually see me. This is very odd. Perhaps I’m blinking in and out of the visible light spectrum. I’ve given this some thought and I believe I stopped regularly reflecting light in 1999, shortly after I retired my favorite red sequinned dress to the back of my closet. For some time thereafter, I put in bizarre cameo appearances right in front of friends, in bank lines or in the empty seat at the table and disappeared, just so. Ten years of refusing to reflect light except at odd moments will cause a diva to make interesting wardrobe choices. For instance, at this very moment, I’m wearing a sleek slate gray fleece, blue jeans and a baby blue microfiber fleece throw. In my office. Obviously, the reason no one is playing a pro-level game of Point&Laugh is that I am temporarily invisible – but not for much longer.

I’ve decided to reflect light again. This will involve cleaning out my closet, emptying my dresser, scouring consignment stores and clearance racks, and a fresh haircut. The process will take months and coincide with spring planting and cleaning. By the summer solstice, I expect to be that shiny thing on the Eastern Seaboard wreaking havoc on international flight paths. Sorry, travelers! You know the old saying: you have to suffer for my beauty!

But as much as this is all about me, you matter too – especially where I am concerned. Every morning, I’m on the exercise bicycle before the sun rises and every evening. On Wednesdays, a masseur works on my hip for an excruciating half-hour. Because the masseur said I might be listing to starboard due to scoliosis and I simply refuse to add another issue to my resume, every evening I’m upstairs toning my abs with pert aerobics queen Denise Austin, whom I despise and therefore work harder. I’ll show her! Anyhoo, despite all this and the coming of spring, which will really help, the days of easy motion with the hip are behind me. I’m not going quietly, but I am going in style. Of course, I want to know: what do you think of my canes?

My mother, who yelped when I mentioned the need for a cane, came around immediately when I mentioned the flask. She decided it would be perfect if the other end was a switchblade. Perhaps the Swiss Army makes canes with cork screws and tweezers.

At this moment, i could probably use a cane for shopping. The last few times I walked to work I wasn’t sure I could make it all the way home, so cycling is probably my transportation method. Once I get off the bike, though, things can get dicey, but what if I had a super cool emerald crystal cane or a slick folding cane to go with quirky vintage outfits?

I am going to rock that. You’ll see.

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