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No Pink Wigs Thanks

So today as I was driving to meet my girlfriend Deborah I passed a small boutique type of store with several mannequins wearing pink and orange wigs. I can’t tell you about the clothes but I remember the wigs. I thought as I went by there are perks to being sixty-one. I don’t have to decide whether to succumb to the latest fashion and consider wearing a pink or orange or purple wig. Make-up doesn’t take me an hour any more. A little mascara, blush and lipstick and I’m good to go. I mean who am I kidding. I think I look good for 61 but that doesn’t mean that I look 4o or 50 for sure. I’m good with what I see. Herringbone stockings are not for my ample thighs thank goodness because they are not pretty wrapping around the legs of some of the healthy young women I see with them on. No muffin top causing jeans cause mine come to my waist. Huh! I am so over the everyday pressures of fashion. I can dress nicely without frightening¬† myself when I look in the mirror.¬† Yes, thanks for mentioning it I do have a slight limp. Guess what I limped my 61-year-old self through the park for 4.24 miles this morning how about you?

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