On sunday, the man in the toll booth told me the charge and as I handed him my money he said, "Can I ask you how old you are?" I smiled and said, "Sure. 29!"
He was shocked. He said, "I was thinking, 'She could be 18 or 25.' but anyway, you're beautiful."
That made my day, although he still made me pay the toll.
Lesson learned: Good looks aren't as persuasive as cold hard cash.
Everyone around here thinks I am super young. Peter said it's my youthful skin. Last week, we were at an Art Council meeting talking to one of the board members. He kept referring to "our" generation (pointing to Peter and I) like he was a lot older than me. I am 5 years older than Peter and don't really feel like I am in his generation. I laughed at the man's comments and asked him how old he was and told him that I was older than Peter. Turns out I am also older than that man...by a month. We are both 29. ha.
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1 comment:
Ha ha! That is super awesome. Did I ever tell you how at Oxford they were always telling me I could pass for one of the kids? I think by the end they started to think I looked maybe a little older. So funny. That's why I always tried to at least dress older than they did.
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