People keep telling me that I look good, but I keep complaining that this only shows how long in the tooth I actually am. “Nobody mentioned how good I looked when I was younger,” I wave my hand in mock disgust. But this is what I, too, say to people older than me whenever I get a chance. “Hey,” I grin at them happily, “you look good!” And they complain about their age in turn. In short, I am also guilty of the threadbare travesty. All the expression means is that one looks better for one’s age than people would expect. Period. That is a compliment of sorts, no doubt, but a compliment laden with premonitions of things to come. Old age and beauty are an odd combination. And an ever-odder one as years go marching by. Looking good, my ass.