Yesterday I was asked by the friend of an acquaintance what my secret to look so young was (really? I feel my age, this much I know). I was very embarrassed. I didn’t know what to answer. The secret is, well, there is no secret. I still feel 15 in my head but I will be 40-something + one year very very soon (just don’t mention it. Birthdays are overrated anyway).
I therefore decided to tell the truth. Because I am well-behaved. Because I am honest. And, most importantly, because I have nothing to sell. I therefore said:
” Well I run almost every day ”
I even run in the bloody British rain
She looked so disappointed. She was clearly expecting something else. Like ‘I have found the youth elixir, and here is what you need to do…”
She didn’t believe me. She looked suspicious.
I felt ill-at-ease. I shut up.
“Really? Nothing else? No miracle product?”
No, I don’t put gold or donkey’s poo on my face. Come to think of it, I am pretty normal. I try not to stuff my face, to stay positive and to do what I like. That’s about it.
“Come on, there must be something…”
I started scratching my head. Frankly, the conversation was starting to get on my nerves. How could I get rid of her? One of my (many) issues is that I am brutally honest. I was about to say “Well, how about losing the muffin top, and you will already look ten years younger”, but I decided against it. I know, I know, it’s not nice, but I am a bit tired to try to be nice all the time, especially when people expect a miracle cure against life problems. Here is a newsflash for you: all good things come with some efforts. What can I say: I am an old fart. Get over it.
” I have read somewhere that a glass of red wine every day helps”
Here we go again. If I had received one pound every time I had been told that drinking red wine was healthy I would be a millionaire by now. Personally, I think that you should drink red wine if you want to drink red wine, not to be healthy. Furthermore, the advice said one glass per day, not one bottle. Just saying.
Once again, I shut up.
“Of course, but please make it a French red wine. Pour yourself some merlot!”
She smiled. That’s what she wanted to hear.
” What else?”
I had no choice but to improvise:
” Take a younger lover. Buy some sexy lingerie. Go to the spa. Do something for you…”
What is it with people expecting we French to have a secret youth elixir? Where is it coming from? What’s wrong with being, well, who you are?
On this note, I am OFF to Phoenix. I think that I will pretend to be from Quebec next time. Just a thought…