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HOW OLD ARE YOU REALLY? THE YEARBOOK METHOD
This one is really fun. You get a letter, usually the day you move up one dress size, with an invitation to your college reunion. We all know what happens then. Out come the yearbooks. After a pleasant two hours or so °f tripping down memory lane you realize with a panic that you can't possibly go. You don't have time to lose those thirty pounds that snuck up on you since graduation. There aren't enough cucumbers or tea bags in the country to smooth your puffy eyelids or make the dark circles and bags under your eyes vanish. The laugh lines that looked so cute in that photo have settled into wrinkles and your bosom is no longer where it used to be. Oh, sure, your neighbours think you look great. The boy at the checkout counter gives you an appreciative glance when he loads your groceries. And you just got that promotion. But deep down inside you know you won't pass the scrutiny of your high school friends. You see yourself through their eyes and suddenly you are older.
If there was no reunion, if there was no yearbook, how old would you be, do you think?
*40\323\8*
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