Sam’s wife bought a new line of expensive cosmetics guaranteed to make her look years younger.
After a long session in front of the mirror applying the “miracle” products, she turned to him and asked,
“Darling, honestly… what age would you say I am?”
Sam looked her over carefully and said,
“Looking at your skin, twenty.
Your hair, eighteen.
And your figure, twenty-five.”
“Oh, you flatterer, what are you after?” she gushed.
“Hold on a minute, honey,” Sam interrupted.
“I haven’t added them up yet.”
