Gloria was a widow on the make at the local nursing home. She was after just about every man in the place. “Frank,” she said. “Hmmmm,” he replied from his hiding place behind the newspaper. He was not really wanting to start a conversation with Gloria. Especially this conversation.
“Do I look old?” she asked. “Hmmmm,” he replied again.
“Well, I don’t feel old. My hair may be grey, my eyelids drooping, and the ‘girls’ are hanging farther South these days, but I think all in all, I look pretty good. What do you think?” she asked.
“No, you don’t look old.” he replied,
She continued to pester him for reassurance. “I just feel like I’m elderly and matronly. How old do you think I look?”
Finally, he put the newspaper down. “Gloria,” he said, “You have the body of a 24-year-old, the face of a 20-year-old, and the hair of an 18-year-old.”
“Thank you, Frank,” she said.
Frank said, “Now, let me finish… I haven’t added them up yet.”