Recently, the Matron walked into a bagel shop.
Sweet Young Thing Behind the Counter: "Can I help you? Oh! I really like that skirt! It's great."
Matron (taking a peek, because memory, it is that spotty): "Thank you. My goodness! I've had this skirt since 1984!"
At this point, diverging realities emerge.
Here's the conversation that should have transpired:
Sweet Young Thing Behind the Counter: "You fit into something you bought over 20 years ago? Oh my God. That's amazing."
Matron: "Yes, it is, isn't it."
SYTCB: "But you don't have children, right?"
Matron (enjoying herself immensely): "Three! I have three children and they all weighed well over 8 pounds. The last one . . . " Here, the Matron pauses for dramatic effect. "The last one weighed nearly 10 pounds!"
SYTCB: "Wow. That's amazing."
Matron: "Let's not forget about those laundering skills, too."
That conversation did not take place. Instead, Sweet Young Thing Behind the Counter shrieked this:
OH MY GOD! Your skirt is older than I am!"
And the Matron had no reply.