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.
No comments:
Post a Comment