I popped into The Body Shop, where I was dealt with by some formidably friendly shop assistants.
"Are you buying something for yourself?"
I was asked repeatedly. Eventually I had to explain myself.
"I'm looking for something for my mother," I said, picking up some body butter. "Well actually, it's really for my father."
"Ah yes," one said knowingly, "you've been given the job to do."
She obviously thought I meant that I was buying on behalf of my father. I wasn't. My dad sees body butter as a licence for groping my mother but I wasn't going to tell the shop assistant that. The sexuality of the agèd is embarassing to the young.
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7 comments:
but does he know ya'll are blogging about it, sugar?;) xoxox
No, thank God! He'd only get big-headed about it!
i'm still groping in the dark
What a cheek, she might as well have asked "Are you buying something for the weekend?"
Sex. Of course, the young people think they invented it, God bless them. Don't you simply long for the day you go off it, though? Catching sight of oneself in a mirror, a plate-glass window, or a monocle, reflected back in unseemly humping mode; it's all too vile for words. When we were young emaciated body-fascists it all made sense. Nowadays, at least one performer has unfashionable hair and the other is watching Police Camera Action with the sound down. It's to cry.
Oh crikey, I'd suggest a coating of chocolate sauce and then a liberal sprinkling of hundreds and thousands. This seems to disguise the wrinkles and saggy bits.
Sx
*High fives KM's dad*
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