You know how sometimes in books you read about women — usually real estate agents in California — who could be anywhere between 40 and 60?
I always thought they were characters. Not real people.
I used to think I could tell how old people were just by looking at their clothes, glasses, and footware. And, of course, a hairstyle tells a story. Then there’s skin: wrinkles, spots and chin hairs speak volumes.
But now that I’m in my forties I’m having a harder time telling who’s my age. I can tell if women are a fair bit younger — they’re dewy and they almost always look good in jeggings.
But I can’t always tell who’s around my age. Sometimes forty-three can look like fify-five. Sometimes forty can look like thirty-five. Sometimes forty-six is just impossible to discern.
So I just ask them what their favourite Echo and the Bunnymen song is…