The Magic Blouse

    I wore it today for the second time, with the same results.  Let me explain:
       I've been paid my share of compliments over the years, on my shoes, my clothes  and my hair.  Back in the day, I shopped for attractive dresses in a flattering style, bought the latest shoes, with heels of course, and visited my hairdresser on a regular basis. I would encounter more than a hundred people each day, and received many favorable comments on my appearance.
      However, that  all came to an end a long time ago. I've lived a compliment-free existence for many years. If I were to choose a time period, say the last decade, to tally my compliment count, the result would be zero. I'm serious, no one, and I mean no one, ever even mentions my personal appearance, possibly and probably out of kindness.
    But that has changed. I went shopping one time this past summer, set on replacing my recliner chair, which collapsed upon me. My search led me to Boscov's. I'd not been in the store in quite a while and decided I should purchase something, for old time's sake. I spotted  blouses  on the corner of a display rack, one of those offerings of same style in several colors. It didn't come in black, which has become my color of choice and makes up most of my wardrobe, so I chose the darkest color there, a forest green.
     Let the magic begin. I have now worn the blouse (called top in current usage) a total of 2 times. The compliments have poured in, 5 of them. To be honest, the 5 compliments came from only 3 different people, but I'm proudly stacking them up. Two of them were double compliments, and almost identical.  As in, "I like your blouse," That's a nice blouse,"  followed by, "You look good in that color," and "The color becomes you." 
      Unfortunately, the compliments all emanated from medical offices, from the medical professionals there, including a doctor, as of today. I say unfortunately as those are pretty much the only places I go, and certainly the only places I've worn the blouse. 
      As soon as I got home, I took the blouse off: I don't want to spill anything on it. Maybe I'll just enshrine it.