getting personal

Well, the other day, I went to pick up a new pair of prescription sunglasses (which have been a godsend, let me tell you, especially with all the driving I've been doing in sunshine glaring off white, white snow everywhere). And guess what the nice fellow fitting the glasses said.

He wanted to ask me a "very personal question."

Well, I said ok, but my imagination was flipping out, into overdrive, wondering what on earth he was going to ask me. I was sure I was going to blush as I can seriously do! And I was ready to tell him it was none of his business, but I didn't know what the question was yet, actually...

I laughed out loud when all he asked me was: "How old are you?"

Are you kidding?? And here I thought...well, never mind what I thought!

My age? Is that all you want to know? That's easy. And I've gone through enough sh.. in my life to feel I've earned the right to proudly say I am 52 years old, so there! Besides, as they say, the alternative is most certainly not better!