From Seventy to Twenty-Something Overnight

Will used to joke that the mysterious “global phenomenon” had been, at the very least, an extraordinarily generous plastic surgeon. Overnight, his aching back stopped hurting, his wrinkles vanished, and he was catapulted from the age of seventy straight into the vitality of his twenties.

His old, tired brown eyes were now a clear, mesmerizing green. His pale skin had taken on a beautiful sun-kissed tone, while his white hair had been replaced by thick, dark, curly locks.

The real problem — or perhaps the biggest twist of all — was waiting for him in the closet mirror.

His former elderly silhouette had disappeared completely, replaced by an incredibly narrow waist and curvy hips. For his wife, Marta, the transition had become a serious test of patience. The wardrobe that once held plaid shirts and loose khaki trousers now had to make room for fitted dresses and daring necklines.

“I’m still the same man in here, Marta! My masculinity is completely intact!” Will would protest whenever he ran a hand through his very short haircut, closely cropped at the sides — the one remaining detail he stubbornly insisted on keeping from his old masculine life.

Marta would simply fold her arms and watch her “husband” lean toward the mirror, adjusting the delicate straps of an orange mini dress covered in shimmering details that traced every new curve of his spectacular figure.

With a radiant smile, pronounced dimples, and one hand delicately resting behind his neck, Will looked like anything but a man desperately trying to preserve his former identity.

He loved the attention he received.

He loved the way the sparkling fabric caught everyone's eye whenever he walked into a room.

Marta let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the closet doorframe as she watched Will take one last look in the mirror. He even pushed his hip out slightly to see how the glittering orange dress emphasized his new curves.

“Masculinity intact,” Marta muttered, folding her arms. “Sure. Will, you spent half an hour deciding which necklace went best with that neckline. Give it another week and you'll be stealing my lipstick, too.”

Will turned around, flashing that radiant, dimpled smile that, frankly, left Marta torn somewhere between amusement and irritation.

“It’s a matter of aesthetics, darling! If the phenomenon gave me this body, the least I can do is make sure I don't look sloppy. Besides, the short hair balances the whole look. It keeps my rugged side.”

“Rugged? Will, the only thing that's going to be rough around here is my reaction the next time we step outside,” Marta shot back, rolling her eyes while failing to hide a crooked smile.

“Last week, we went to the supermarket and the cashier asked if you were my youngest daughter! What is happening? We go out together and people think we're mother and daughter! I didn't marry you for this! I married a seventy-year-old man so we could grow old together, not so I could become the mother of a twenty-something woman who wears more eye-catching clothes than I do!”

Will burst into a melodious laugh — another change he was still getting used to — and took a few slightly awkward steps toward his wife, still learning how to walk confidently in thin heels.

“Oh, come on, Martie! Look on the bright side... at least now I can carry the heavy groceries without throwing my back out!”

Marta stared at him for a moment.

Then at the dress.

Then at the necklace.

Then back at him.

“That's your argument?”

Will shrugged innocently.

“It's a pretty good one.”

Deep down, the excuse that “it was the only thing that fit” no longer held up. Not even Will could keep blaming the phenomenon for his newest — and increasingly daring — interest in fashion.

And judging by the way he was already checking himself in the mirror again, Marta had a feeling this transformation was far from over.

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