Old Friends?

I just had breakfast with a former neighbor that I haven't seen in four or five years. As soon as she arrived, I knew I had made a tactical error. I should have insisted on lunch. Not because I prefer a nice salad to bacon and eggs (although I do). Not because I like sleeping in (although I have been guilty of that once or twice). No, my decision to restrict all future outings to lunch or dinner rests solely on the fact that, at fifty-five, I look better after noon.

I suppose it didn't help that my friend walked in looking as beautiful as ever. She's one of those disgusting people who make it look easy. Her simple gray knit dress hugged her impossibly slim frame. Her thick, black hair, pulled back into a carefully tousled ponytail, showed off her porcelain, unlined skin. She hugged me and told me how good I looked and I returned the compliment but what I really wanted to say was 'You should see me in a couple of hours, or better yet, in the soft glow of candlelight'. I know I shouldn't be so shallow but it's getting tougher to ignore the fact that most of the women I know were born a decade later. Since I happen to love them all, I'm going for the easy solution. Lunch or dinner. Either that, or I have to find a few older friends. Maybe I'll meet them for breakfast.