A young lady, a friend of a friend, recently shared the story of a rather unusual accident which resulted in a broken foot and her first cast. She had followed a friend into the men's room and stood on the toilet in the stall next to him to peek over to see him pee. Why? Oh who knows. I strongly suspect alcohol was involved. When she stepped down from her toilet perch, she slipped or tripped or something and voila! Broken foot. Instant karmic retribution for spying? Totally.
She was quite enamoured with her cast. Evidently she had broken the same foot twice before but repair did not require the plaster masterpiece she now sported. She spoke dreamily of mounting it in a shadowbox after its removal. She said, "I waited a long time for this cast!"
I said, "I'm 43 years old and have never had a cast." (I did not mention I have never had a broken bone either, but as the thought entered my head I discreetly knocked on wood lest my words come back to bite me.)
That's when another young lady, seated just down the table from me, exclaimed, "You're 43 years old?! I thought you were much younger than that!"
Yes yes. I'm certain she said "younger." Although it could have been "older." Sometimes we hear what we want to hear.