“Always wear clean underwear in case you are ever in an accident.” – Marion Horowitz (My Mother)

Yesterday I went to drop off some of my new jewelry designs at a beautiful, high-end lingerie shop that sells my work. “Darlin’” is the name of the boutique in the hip, exploding area of Nashville next to the new Soho House where car attendants are happily parking 2022 Ferrari’s.

While I casually lounged at the counter of the shop, speaking with the wonderful owner, Katie, and her adorable shop attendant, my eye settled on some practical undergarments I was in need of. In a shop filled with lace and enchantment, I found myself looking at something extremely practical which quickly drove home the fact that I am either firmly embedded in middle age, or I have not dated in way too long, or both. Katie proceeded to take my measurements which was momentarily terrorizing and excitingly pushed me into the dressing room with something exquisite yet somehow still practical and told me to try it on for size. I realized how much I used to love wearing beautiful undergarments, even if only for myself. I froze for a moment quite aware that my middle-aged body was no match for the lace on the hanger, and yet, in a what the heck moment of life’s too short, egged on by Katie telling me my body is beautiful, and quite honestly, I think she meant it, she’s very compassionate, I tried on the most delicate yet sturdy garment she handed to me, mesmerized by the beauty of it. Of course, the first thing, and truly all I could see in the mirror was not so much my middle age, but my middle. Is that why they call it middle age? It’s like my whole body just turned into my middle. I was never a skinny girl, except for a minute in 1983, and yet, I don’t recall the middle of my body ever looking like what was staring back at me over the top of my jeans in the gold-framed mirror. In an act of courage and another what the heck moment, I pushed aside the curtain to a hail of Ooohhhs and Aaahhhs from Katie and the adorable attendant. I exhaled and thought to myself, it’s time to get back that younger old me. I thought to myself, hey, even if no one but myself sees it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t count!

And to another point, I’m into manifesting. Maybe this is another angle to MAN-i-festing! Not so much the angle in the mirror but the one inside my head, that younger, braver, daring, bohemian, qypsy-spirited girl who somehow got lost in the mix of paying bills, being a responsible citizen, a good mom, and hard worker. I thought to myself go ahead and put on a little lace and spice up my experience of me. And folks, not only did I say yes to the underdress, I wore it right out of the shop.

As I drove home, I recalled my mother’s seriously insane advice, “Always wear clean underwear in case you are in an accident,” and prayed out loud to please not get into one while giving a little wink to my mom, may she rest in peace.