Jo Lee Ferguson

I live with my Edgar suit now.

Sometimes I forget that it’s a part of me. I wake up in the morning and begin to get out of bed and quickly remember: You better chill, girl. You’re wearing an Edgar suit.

So what is an Edgar suit? In 1997, the year I graduated from Stephen F. Austin State University, the movie “Men in Black” came out.

That movie was stinkin’ funny, but mainly I remember one line from it. For some reason, it stuck with me all these years.

A large alien bug ate a not-so-nice man named Edgar, but left his skin. The alien then began wearing the man’s skin so he could try to disguise himself as a human.

Everything about the alien wearing Edgar’s skin was awkward. The way he moved. The way his head and neck didn’t hang quite right. The shape of his mouth was off.

His wife tells the Men in Black — government alien police — that it’s like her husband is wearing an “Edgar suit.”

That’s what it’s like for me almost four years into a Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer diagnoses and after more than 50 chemotherapy treatments.

Make no mistake. I’m thankful my Edgar suit is up and moving around, but I’d be lying if I said I’m completely happy with the Edgar suit model I received. I have written this letter to the manufacturer:

Dear Edgar Suit Inc.,

I am writing to ask you for a full refund for my Edgar suit. I think I pay about $7,000 a year for the privilege of wearing the Edgar suit, but honestly, I don’t remember ordering it. I think I might be a victim of credit card fraud.

Also, I know that the very definition of what an Edgar suit is means that it’s going to function poorly, but really? It seems there are issues you could address:

1. It has a propensity for falling. I did not agree to that feature.

2. It can’t run. I love walking on the Boorman Trail, but I don’t think I can safely do that now because I can’t run from the horse flies.

3. And while I once was able to dance and twirl a baton at the same time, I can’t do that either. Nor can I roller skate. I love skating. Why would I have agreed to give those things up?

4. I used to be a fast walker. In heels, in flats, in wedges, in tennis shoes. It didn’t matter. My Edgar suit moves very slowly, and it can’t wear high heels. I protest.

5. I was fine being pasty white, but my Edgar Suit came with a condition that left my calves with what looks like a constant sunburn. Is that a manufacturer’s error?

6. I’m a journalist, a writer, but my Edgar suit’s fingers came with neuropathy. Suddenly, after years of typing with fingers that were well-trained, I type with fingers that are being as difficult as my Husky when I want her to move out of the way. I think the Husky and the Edgar suit might actually be conspiring to kill me. I know the Husky wants my husband all to herself, but I’m not sure what the Edgar suit’s motivation is.

7. The Edgar suit is just too expensive. Can you send me a cure for the Edgar suit instead? Is that under development? Because that would be worth at least $7,000 a year.

Thank you for your time.

Signed,

A dissatisfied customer