Dinosaurs, age,

I confess. It is still a thrill when someone mentions having read my words,

At least that was before yesterday when a lovely lady asked with awe:

“Are you really 98 years old?”

Instantly I regretted missing my hair appointment and never having had the courage for botox as I responded:

“No, I am not 98,” while lacking the courage to ask if I really looked quite that ancient,

And it was then I realized the gurus of etiquette have long disappeared from current view.

Emily Post and Amy Vanderbilt have been replaced with Drudge and Facebook.

The days of “never asking” about age, weight as well as avoiding discussions about the always volatile topics of religion and politics are now extinct.

The rules of old apparently disappeared long before I was interrogated (albeit with courtesy) about my longevity.

I was just too engrossed pretending I wasn’t getting old, and denying the statistics recorded (but not always with accuracy) on google.

Yet I must reaffirm my admittedly archaic credo:

I believe in the privacy of the poll booth and absentee ballot. I also adamantly refuse to engage in controversial discussions relating to religion as well as politics.

I also believe in the sanctity of sex and the right of privacy regarding both weight, as well as age,

Most likely that is also an accurate description of a woman obviously now considered a dinosaur, and perhaps rightly so.