Free How Stella Got Her Groove Back by Terry McMillan Page A

Mosley which I’ve been meaning to read since I read and loved Devil in a Blue Dress but there’s already a grisly murder on page two of Black Betty and I’m not much in the mood for death. I pick up the hardcover version of Waiting to Exhale by that Terry McMillan which I bought when it first came out and I’ve been meaning to read for a couple of years now and after reading like the first fifty or sixty pages I don’t know what all the hoopla is about and why everybody thinks she’s such a hot writer because her shit is kind of weak when you get right down to it and this book here has absolutely no literary merit whatsoever at least none that I can see and she uses entirely too much profanity. Hell, I could write the same stuff she writes cause she doesn’t exactly have what you’d call a style but anyway I can sort of relate to some of her characters even though the main reason I didn’t read this book was because from what I heard a couple of these women sounded too much like me although I’m not as stupid as a few of them. But I’m not in the mood to read about a bunch of woe-is-me black women. I sift through the rest of my books, skipping over A Short History of God and The Between which I heard was good but it’s got some supernatural stuff in it and maybe this could work for me like at home but not right this minute and the author’s name is Tanarive Due and she’s young and black and from Florida because I heard about her from the Miami Herald when I was down there and there’s Moo by Jane Smiley. I love everything she does— A Thousand Acres did it for me even before it won the Pulitzer—but I don’t feel like going to a satirical college today and there’s Crossing Over Jordan by Linda Beatrice-Brown though I’m not eager to take a little trip down memory lane all the way back to slavery either so I pick up something called Going Under by William Luvaas which sounds about right for some reason and this is what I settle on for the next two and a half hours.
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    I feel so silly going through my suitcase looking for a pair of pajamas to wear to a disco. But I search anyway. The only jammies I brought was my cotton number which is boring as hell but cool especially for someone who is going to be sleeping alone for seven more nights. I did bring one sexy number I got from Neiman Marcus last year that cost me a fortune but I wouldn’t dare wear this because it looks like a slutty wedding gown and why did I pack the thing anyway oh yeah because Vanessa told me you should always pack at least one bewitching thing because you just never know and then I come across this almost but not quite sheer white cotton nightgown that has scalloped lace with little tiny pearls sewn in that fall right over your shoulder blades and it has a tiny little pink rose at the center of the neckline which is not too low and it also has a long sheer jacket to wear over it which has those pretty puffy sleeves you push up to your elbows. This is what I’ll wear. It is soft and sensual in an innocent sort of way and not too revealing unless I stand in the light and like why would I want to do that?
    I take another shower. My third today. And choose a frosty pink Marilyn Monroe halter sundress which of course requires no bra but the cut of the dress makes your breasts look firm and supple even though it is really just a double layer of fabric you are looking at and panties just don’t seem appropriate for this dress so I don’t wear any. At home I go through a can of Shower Fresh FDS in a few weeks because I cannot stand the way I smell down there when I perspire, the reason why, I understand, more men don’t go down on women. Lord knows I wouldn’t which is another reason why I douche at least twice sometimes even three times a month depending on how much attention I’m getting and I don’t care what those gynecologists say about using up good bacteria and increasing your risks for infection because if