Occasionally, my husband develops a blotch on his skin. As a human being, he is as susceptible to skin changes. When this blotch is red, I will invariably suggest that he allow me to dab on a little bit of concealer. He will invariably recoil in horror and run like a cheetah to another room.
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For the longest time, I thought I was Gen X. It was a shock to discover, a long time ago, that I actually belong to the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation. It didn’t make sense to me because my parents weren’t old enough to have served in a war. That’s where the “boom” came from; soldiers coming home from war, going forth and multiplying.
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