Today I wore red.
I don’t normally wear a lot of color. In fact, I usually wear black. I wear black so much that from time to time people ask me if I am in mourning.
I’m not. I’m actually quite happy. I just like to wear black.
Black matches everything. Black is not loud or flashy. Black is mercifully slimming and universally flattering. Black is my comfortable, forgiving friend.
But today I wore red.
My red dress, albeit a plain dress, a simple dress, made me happy. It gave me a little spring in my step. Made me suck it in and stand up a little taller, a little prouder.
I remember telling Granny once about a formal dance I was going to. She asked me what I was going to wear, and I told her that I had a fancy black dress with sequins and such. “Oh, no,” she said, “Don’t wear black. The girl wearing black will fade into the background. Wear red. You’ll get noticed.”
And you know what? She was right. Today I wore red, and today I got noticed. Husband noticed. Other people noticed. I got comments and compliments. It was sort of weird being noticed, but weird in a good way.
Today I wore red. Maybe I will tomorrow too.
(Photo credit: Sonny)