Don’t You Know How Old I Think I Am?


I don’t look my age.

It can create a few interesting situations — from potential employers assuming I’m straight outta high school to Home Depot people thinking I’m shopping with my dad instead of, gee, my husband — but I’m thankful for it.  Not only do we live in a society that puts a heavy emphasis on youth, but one of my jobs requires its people to look as youthful as possible.  However, I’ve noticed my reaction to people assuming I’m not even legal drinking age yet has evolved over the years:

When I was in my early 20s: “Well, I bet I’ll appreciate looking younger than my actual age someday.”

When I was in my mid 20s: “You think I’m 20?  I’m not, but — I’ll take it!  Nothing wrong with a youthful look.”

Now that I’m toeing in on 29: “YES, PLEASE.  PLEASE KEEP ASSUMING I’M 20.  For a 20-year-old, I’ve got my shit together.  For a 20-year-old, I’m doing fantastic.”


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