So, I was waiting in a doctor's office for my bride to finish her appointment. It was actually relaxing, with comfortable chairs and a Keurig machine. After a rather extended waiting period, I spotted the wife emerging from the back and settling up with the receptionist. The receptionist was mid-twenties and cute. As they were moving funds to and fro and waiting for the card reader to spit out a receipt, I saw them huddling together, glancing in my direction and laughing.
Now, I know I can be a little paranoid, but I was unsettled by the obvious collection of glances and chuckles thrown in my direction. I mean, really, I was good enough to act as chauffeur on this expedition and the least they could do was show a little gratitude. How were the cute receptionist and the doctor going to get paid without me?
Once the mime exhibition was concluded, Betsy and I walked to the car. As I started the car up, I asked what the joke was. My wife said that the receptionist commented on how nice my hair looked.
I will admit that I am conceited as the next person (at least, if not more), but my conceits generally are more intellectual than physical. The last time I received a sincere complement on my physical attributes (other than my bride, of course) was sometime in the mid-1970's. (And now that I remember it, that may have been sarcasm as well). But, I do have a full head of hair, turning gray but still full. I am a great trial to my barber, who is hoping to taper off his work and retire; however, I always return with a full supply of the old brain insulation and back to work he goes.
So, my reaction to this complement was immediate. The old sparkle in the eye was evident and I preened just a bit. Looked at myself in the mirror, preened some more.
Then Betsy said: "yes, she wants hair like yours when she gets old."
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