This morning I made an embarrassing discovery after it was already too late to do a darn thing about it. I was checked in at the Medical Arts Building when I realized what it was about my outfit that felt so funny. I was dressed up in black; black coat, black lace patterned cashmere sweater, black cigarette pants, black fishnet stockings, black heels.
I looked like I was on my way to a funeral. In reality, I was waiting for the results of a biopsy. It was all too transparent that the funeral I was waiting for was my own.
The results of the biopsy were negative; the mass they had scraped was benign. Just as I expected. Or so I said.
My wardrobe was singing a different tune.