I recently took a trip to Seattle. In fact, my trip got off to a good start before I ever left the ground. While going through security the agent checked my drivers license and instead of giving it right back to me he held on to it long enough that I started to get a little bit nervous.

" Is there anything wrong?" I asked, hesitantly.

" This can't be your real birth date. I would have guessed you to be closer to my age." He said.

" Oh really, and what is your age?".

" Twenty-three".

I am a firm believer that you are as old as you feel, so right about now I am feeling pretty good. Don't get me wrong, I know he was lying. I haven't been twenty three in, lets just say, 10-???...
a long time. But, I did like it.

I floated along on this happy bubble until a couple of days ago when I came home for lunch and saw a letter addressed to me on the counter. I opened it and read.

Dear Becky, We would like to extend to you an invitation to participate in a new and exciting study on...hot flashes.

"Pssssssst" slowly the air from my happy bubble escaped and I hit the ground. I do not yet have nor have I ever had hot flashes unless of course I was standing close to the oven.