If your wig ever flew off your head like a bird in flight, right after you've just sworn to friends that 'girl this is my real hair' you have the right to sing the blues. If laugh lines have appeared on your face even when you haven't been laughing, or you are experiencing PMS (better known as putting up with men's--stuff), without a Snickers or Lays Potato Chip in sight, you have the right to sing the blues.

We have all been there. We are at the mall when we see an item simply too fabulous for words.  We don’t buy it for many reasons. It's too expensive. Where in the world would we ever wear something like that, and we already have a closet full of clothes with the price tags still on them. So we slink home, expecting sympathy, a hug. Okay, I'm just going to say it, even sex, from our spouse or significant other. We get none of these. No sympathy, no sex. What we do get is a lecture that "you should have bought it when you saw it. It will probably be sold when you go back", Yada, yada, yada.

How about when we are all set for a night of romance? We arrange all our props. We light our favorite incense, you know, the one promising us both love and money. We think either way, we are  'fixing' to get paid .We hunt for candles, only to find two almost burned down to the nub. We light them anyway, telling him when he asks about them, that these are one time use only candles, and then you throw them away. We already know that what he knows about candles would fit onto a contact lens.

We hunt for wine, only to find one can of ginger ale. It'll do, it’s the right color and it does fizz. In the back of our mind we remember it's Wednesday night. Hump night. Surely cooking in the bedroom tonight will only enhance our cooking in the boardroom tomorrow, we think.

We bathe and talcum powder everything, everywhere. During the couple's dance he throws in a new move. Limbs tossed asunder we are twisted, flipped and spun. Even our workout at the gym isn't that vigorous. Like most women, we can't wait for the afterglow to snuggle, laugh and whisper secrets to each other in the dark. Lights out, he falls asleep and begins to snore. Disappointed, we turn over, go to sleep. For to quote the late Ray Charles, we can't let the sun catch us crying.

The blues gets to all of us some time. How we deal with these feelings varies, depending on whom you ask. Some folks rant and rave. A few pig out on ice cream, still others overdose on foods made from tofu. Case in point. A couple of days ago I noticed a gray hair, smack dab in the front of my forehead. I could have sworn that it hadn't been there the day before. So I plucked at it. It sprung back into place. True to someone born in a land where denial has long been the accepted way of dealing with age, and everything else, I plucked at it again, this time with industrial strength tweezers. It again sprung back into place. 

I then checked my entire body seeking other visible signs of aging. To my horror I found others!  That morning my husband and the kitties suffered many stanzas and variations of the blues. Traitors all of them, the kitties ran and hid under the bed. My husband almost ran all the way to work, before he remembered he owned a car.

Fueled by all the modern technology we have today, along with the tons of books and classes at their disposal, men and women have the ability to reinvent themselves, not once but as many times as their imagination allows. Still every now because it makes us feel better, or simply just for the heck of it, we humans have a right to sing the blues.