The number one question of late is, “Did you really give up pearls?” The question comes in hushed tones, as if I am either addicted or addled. Close. Pearls provide artificial highs, surges of excitement as I finger them at my throat and feelings of unquestioning invincibility. Power possessed in the little orbs from the sea is palpable. To my business advisor; not so much.
If you recall, she advised a couple of months ago to stop wearing pearls as they are dated and make a girl appear unapproachable. With the exception of a funeral, (where no one including a reincarnated Coco herself will tell me a pearl is not appropriate) I have not worn simple strands. I opt instead for complex inter-weavings featuring bows, drops, gold and multiples. Seems kicking an addiction is harder than one might imagination. It’s akin to a Kardashian not enlarging its ass. Did you see Khloe over the weekend. WTF girl?
Perusing the jewelry section with Middle Chicken, she urges color for the necklace wardrobe. I consciously avoid pearls and their siren song. I wander instead through shocking pinks, multiple shades of turquoise and even browns and reds. My heart beats faster as if I am naughty. I find myself looking about nervously and sweating just a bit. There is the familiar shudder at the silver section but that happens every time.
“Look at this one,” I proudly display golden shapes across my arm for Middle Chicken’s approval. “Looks like every other necklace you have,” she deadpans. Stung just a bit, I murmur to myself that I can tell the difference. Perhaps one must be older and more gold appreciative. Pfft.
“Oooh, how about this?” I try again. “Looks like something a kindergarten teacher would wear.” I know very few fashionable kindergarten teachers, little one. Most of them resemble their classroom rats and this necklace would certainly overwhelm a five-year-old.
“Okay, how about this?” I hold up a multi-shaped statement in a turquoise shade.
“Do you like it,” she asks. Now the child is opinion-less?
“I don’t know. It’s colorful,” add I. “Do you think it will work on me?”
She holds it up to herself and says, “We are the same. I wear this color a lot.” It does look lovely on her unlined face lighting up her enormous eyes and perfect smile.
I try on the foreign object and find it pretty enough and surprisingly light, making less of a statement than previously perceived. Purchase made, I will wear it to celebrate Sisterella’s birthday. Sisterella notices the second she opens the door. “Ooh, I love, love the necklace. Where’d you get that?” I toss back my curls and pretend it was my idea.
Game, set, match Middle Chicken. Perhaps that’s why business consultants, as opposed to writers, make the big bucks. Although I am sitting at my desk twisting a triple threat set of perfect cream colored sea-created orbs as I type. One day at a time, my friend. One day at a time.