Carol Voorderman decides to have a facelift for her 50th birthday. She spends
£15,000 and feels pretty good about the results.
On her way home, she stops at a news stand to buy a newspaper. Before
leaving, she says to the clerk, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but
how old do you think I am?"
"About 32," is the reply.
"Nope! I'm exactly 50," CV says happily.
A little while later she goes into McDonald's and asks the counter
girl the very same question.
The girl replies, "I'd guess you'd be about 29."
CV replies with a big smile, "Nope, I'm 50."
Now she's feeling really good about herself. She stops in a drug store
on her way down the street. She goes up to the counter to get some
mints and asks the clerk this burning question.
The clerk responds, "Oh, I'd say around 30."
Again she proudly responds, "I'm 50, but thank you!"
While waiting for the bus to go home, she asks an old man waiting next
to her the same question.
He replies, "I'm 78 and my eyesight is going. Although, when I was
young, there was a sure-fire way to tell how old a woman was. It
sounds very forward, but it requires you to let me put my hands under
your bra. Then, and only then can I tell you EXACTLY how old you are."
They wait in silence on the empty street until her curiosity gets the
best of her. She finally blurts out, "What the hell, go ahead."
He slips both of his hands under her blouse and begins to feel around
very slowly and carefully. He bounces and weighs each breast and he
gently pinches each nipple. He pushes her breasts together and rubs
them against each other.
After a couple of minutes of this, she says, "Okay, okay...How old am I?"
He completes one last squeeze of her breasts, removes his hands, and
says, "Madam, you are 50."
Stunned and amazed, CV says, "That was incredible, how could you tell?"
The old man says, "Promise you won't get mad?"
"I promise I won't," she says.
"I was behind you in McDonald's."