Monday, January 13, 2014

Yesteryear photo of Burt Reynolds

Of the many topics my wife and I discussed on Saturday, one had repetition to it and that was the color of my moustache.  

I think her eyes and mind are getting tired looking at my salt and pepper upper lip warmer.

In a style best described as a gentle nudge, it seems like Mrs. Pierini Fitness believes a little color to this middle-aged man’s ‘stache might make the world a better place.

I don’t do good answering a “What do you think?” question so my response to its repeated asking can best be described as elusive and weak. 

Such an act, I pondered, would lessen or eliminate my ability to take fun stabs at all those middle-aged men who regularly “juice” their hair and ‘stache with artificial-looking colors because I would now be one of them.

It would forever rob me of my coveted identity of “that guy who walks down a beaten path and who dances to a different drummer.”

Well true to my non-committal self, I didn’t say no and I didn’t say yes while suspecting that answer will only bring the same question being asked again and again.

If she asks me too often, I’ll tell her to knock it off and quit looking at that yesteryear photo of Burt Reynolds.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum

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