Sunday, July 21, 2019


Every four months or so I have lowlights done (opposite of highlights) so as to regain or retain some semblance of youthful-ish appearance. One must keep up appearances, especially with a big, gigantic, Methuselah-size birthday looming over the horizon.

Pleased with the result at a local salon I asked the woman who dresses my hair to guess how old I am.
She thought for a while then said this word:


She wasn't being polite or sarcastic or joking.
She really meant fifty. 50

Before leaving I embraced her.

Is there an Oscar for compliments that are intended as facts?
I want to give her that Oscar.


Tom said...

I say this with love and respect, dear friend. Fifty is a tad underestimated, but we were very surprised when we discovered your true age. Seventy perhaps? But who cares? It's the inner age that counts, not some effect brought about by Earth's relationship with the Sun, or gravity. On that alternative basis you are and will remain forever young.

Natalie d'Arbeloff said...

Thanks Tom. The earth, the sun and gravity have all got together and agreed to give me a special extension to the rules. Details of this agreement have yet to be worked out but they're already much clerer than Brexit.

Anonymous said...

Natalie..I hope you have a great birthday..Youth is a state of mind ...your blog is admired by "inner teenagers " everywhere. Best wishes, James...