And fat, too

Collected my mail at the Post Office the other day, and on the way out bumped
into a woman I’ve known for decades. We’ve been frequent allies in
politics, and from my mid-20s to my late-50s she worked hard for me
during various campaigns. I’ve had the chance to return the favor a
time or two. Socially, we’ve attended dozens of parties and picnics
together. We’re not bosom buddies, but we’re friends. So I gave her a
smiling greeting at the PO door, and asked how she was doing. She looked
at me, said “I think I recognize you,” and stared quizzically. I
introduced myself—a bizarre feeling in the circumstances. She
started back, gave me a shocked look, and said, “Oh, my God, you look so old.”

Exactly my reaction every morning in the mirror.



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