(Hey, BB looks pretty good here–and that no-good Rontonton has grey hair, too!)
You know how when you see an old movie and there’s this smashingly beautiful actress (or actor) and you may not even quite remember who it is and then mama or papa says, “Well, she doesn’t look like that now.” Or “Boy, was she/he a knockout—what happened?”
And of course, mama says, “The silver screen can’t stop famous actors from turning into…er…older replicas of themselves, and yes, I understand that sometimes it’s hard to look at them after having known them in their heyday, but you and I are moving in that direction ourselves.”
“But we’re not old,” papa says. “THEY are!”
And mama says, “Well, I understand the frustration at seeing, say, Brigitte Bardot or Sofia Loren now at a certain age and yes, they have definitely changed.”
And I suppose for me, I would have to say that I watch old movies, too, and Lassie or Felix would probably have a few grey hairs by now (uh, oh, I think Lassie is…you know…chasing chihuahua angels). Still…one doesn’t think about what’s in store until that mirror (into which I look daily because it’s over my bed) says, “Hey, Loulou, ever thought about dying those whiskers, huh?”
Okay, okay, I am noticing a few recent grey hairs in my sweet little kitty body, even if I was born with them down my gams already and one little spot on the back that no one can figure out, and I know that prematurely grey is a treatable condition and that I could douse myself in, what’s that thing people used in the old days, Grecian Formula, and I’d be younger by about five years but since I’m only two years old, I don’t want to go back quite that far into another life and come out as an amoeba or just a gleam in my (real) papa’s eyeball, so I’m going to live with my grey hairs and love every one, just as mama does. Love mine, that is…
And then mama says, “Well, yes, it’s a shock to see an actor or entertainer you loved in your youth (and in theirs) suddenly age twenty or thirty years and show up in your life again, but just think, if you were living with him or her every day as his/her mate or his/her neighbor or friend from the time he/she was young and a presence, you’d see him/her as young and powerful and sexy and beautiful even now, just as I see papa after having lived with him for….er….some time.”
I saw papa thinking about that.
Me, too, because I intend to be around here a long, long time…
Hey, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon…
We don’t know BB but our Jan remembers her. Not that they ever met. Jan didn’t like her when she was a movie star, but she’s done a lot to help animals.
We love Brigitte Bardot, she has done some excellent advocacy for animals and she’s feisty. We like feisty. Our Mum thinks that BB is more interesting now she is older and free of all that dull old sex symbol stuff. Our Dad ape thinks she still has it.
In the UK it is common to consider those with the odd grey whisker or two, as “distinguished”
er, Loulou, could you tell us what “gams” are please?
Gerry & Mungo
Oh, boy, I got that from mama and now it’ll age her something awful… Gams are ‘legs’ as in a sailor saying of his pin-up of Betty Grable, “Wow, just look at those gams.”
Also from the Italian via Latin, I think, “gambe” for leg.