The best part: a true story
Oh what a weekend it was.
In short: we basically took a raw food tour of NY. Details to follow.
The best part?
Well, meeting Jenny Cornbleet was very cool.
And the raw nachos we ate were delicious.
Don't get me started on the raw ice cream, or I might hop in my car this minute and go get more.
But none of those were the best part.
The best part was going to the Trader Joe's wine store on 14th Street and getting proofed by the cashier (but wait, it gets better) who looks at my driver's license - then looks at me - then looks at my license again - then asks, "is this your real age?" and I go "yeah" and she's like "really? you're thirty-four?" (seriously, it gets even better) and with no shortage of delight in my voice, I'm all "yeah! I graduated from high school in 1990! I graduated from college in 1994!!" (and afterward I think to myself geez, I actually remember when Gerald Ford was president) and Rob interjects with "she's even older than ME!" and I exclaim "only by NINE MONTHS!!" and the cashier shakes her head and smiles and says (get ready - this is the BEST part - are you ready??) "I never would have guessed that you're thirty-four. I thought you were, like, twenty-two!!!!!!!!"
Mind you, I'm often told that I look younger than my biological age; my baby face gives many people that impression. But I never, NEVER have been told that I look twelve years younger than I am - that now, in my mid-thirties, I appear to be in my early twenties!
To what do I owe this?
I don't owe it to plastic surgery, or to pricey anti-aging creams and potions, or to selling my soul Dorian Gray-style.
I simply owe it to RAW FOOD, of course!!
And that, my friends, is truly the best part of all. :)