waiting for death
If you didn't know how old you were, how old would you
feel? This is not a trick question, but one
posed by WoWoWow, the website targeted at old ladies, ha ha ha. Columnist
Peggy Noonan says she feels 37; gossip
Liz Smith feels 28;
Joan Juliet Buck says 11 — she works at
Vogue so go fig — and my answer is obviously "not old enough" because for eight years now I have been unburdened by the desire to lie about my age, which is why I'm glad there are old comment-whores like Stella Lazar still on the lookout for blogger cons. "I like the age I am — in 25 days I will be 71 — NONE OF YOU WOULD ADMIT YOUR AGES — you all live in outer-space!," she wrote on the website, adding snarkily, "And, looking at your illustration with this question I think you are living in the last millenium — it looks dated and terrible as do your photographs which are so retouched and most of them look like wax figures from Tussauds." For the record, Peggy is 58, Liz Smith is 85, Joan Juliet Buck is in her sixties (I think), and I am 29 with the attention span of a four-year-old, the liver of a Korean War veteran and the musical taste of a late-blooming teenager.
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