IT'S THE CARROTS

Today’s paper tells us that Prime Minister Berlusconi may be taking time off to tuck in the eye lids, firm up the waist line, and take out any of the pastiness in his skin tone. Of course, the Italians tell us that appearance is a strategic issue: Mr. Berlusconi needs to look good to succeed in the forthcoming European Parliamentary elections. The Italians would think that. And if you’re genetically predisposed to looking great, as they all seem to be, it doesn’t hurt to protect that, which nature bestowed upon you.

My father has always said that he wishes he were born to an Italian mother and a Norwegian father – he’d have the height of the Nordic men (it is no secret that he covets the missing height genes), and beauty of the Italian people. But hey, the comment in the paper suggests that Mr. Berlusconi takes great pains working on his skin tone, and as a result, his skin always looks orange.

I’m one ahead of him there: you don’t have to be Italian to know that eating carrots will add orange tones to your complexion. Being a carrot cruncher myself, I can see the changes over the years. I, too, appear orange these days. Really.