I went to the barber yesterday. The master was a very nice woman of 50. She laughed a lot, shared advice on hair care, boasted of her own. And how is it accepted among women of this age (who are pleased with themselves) asks:

You think I am how old?

I don’t like lying at all, but why did she want to lie, I say:

No more than 40!

No more than 32...

As you can see, the haircut didn’t work well.