My parents divorced each other when I was in kindergarten. I swore that I would never get divorced, and I worked hard at being married. My stepfather told me once that he couldn't imagine how bad things would have to be before he would be willing to divorce my mother. I wanted to be like him. Unfortunately, I found out how bad things would be in order to get divorced.

I was lucky for several things when I got my divorce. First, from the time I told my husband I wanted a divorce, until the divorce was final took only six weeks. A virtually unheard of feat.

Then, as soon as the judge signed my divorce decree, I experienced two dramatic physical changes: dramatic weight loss and augmented visual acuity. I was surprised because none of the books about divorce ever warned me about them so, in the beginning, I wasn't even aware of them.

One of my co-workers pointed out the first one for me. I felt sad when I arrived at work that day. Filing for divorce had shattered my hopes and dreams. So, I was surprised when Rick Scoggins staggered and fell back into his chair when I walked in the office.

"Wow!" he gushed, and Richard Scoggins gushing is a remarkable sight. "You look like you've lost weight!"

"Thank you?" I was confused. We had seen each other just the day before.

"You look like you've lost about 200 pounds," he said.

Now I'm the kind of person who takes a week or two to understand knock-knock jokes when I'm at my best, so I just stared blankly at him. Another co-worker, Colin Derry explained, "You've lost the dead weight, Piper. Congratulations on your divorce."

I figured out the second one on my own, but it took a little while. It is a very useful tool. In fact, I wish I could figure out a way to bottle this so that I could market it. I think the military, in particular, would be interested. I realized that I had developed a superpower. I can spot a wedding ring at a thousand yards! I can prove it, too.

Last summer, I fell at work and broke my arm. (Note to young people everywhere when you are older than 35, you don't bounce anymore.) My boss called 911. The fire department happened to be eating lunch at the fast food restaurant next door, so they arrived about 45 seconds after the call. The ambulance, on the other hand, was clear on the other side of town. For at least 45 minutes, I was lying on a concrete floor on a broken elbow, in shock and in dreadful pain.

Before any of the firemen touched me, they put on protective gloves. These gloves were a heavier grade than typical kind used by doctors and nurses; they were purple and opaque. But there wasn't anything in particular for the firemen to do, so they chatted amongst themselves a bit. I can't remember the exact conversation, but something prompted me to say, "Well yeah, but he's married." Now the firemen were in shock because I was right, and they couldn't figure out how. In the few seconds between the firemen getting to me and putting on their gloves, I knew which ones were married and which ones weren't. I wasn't about to tell them. If I did, some evil genius might try to find some way to counteract my gift.

I loved being married. I hate being single. However, if I have to be single, at least I have a new superpower to compensate. I've been divorced for eight years now, and I haven't noticed any other extraordinary powers. If I do, I'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, I promise to use my superpowers only for good.

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Learn more about this author, Piper Wilson.
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