In your mind, you are a successful, competent, and mature adult.
But in the eyes of the American public, you are a helpless infant that has wandered out of daycare.
Trying to casually ordering a drink with dinner? Forget it. You’ll be carded until you’re thirty.
Going to an R-rated movie? Doesn’t matter if you’re well into your twenties— you know you’ll need that I.D. on hand.
Trying to buy a copy of Pulp Fiction from the five dollar bin? Think again, baby face.
And, when you present your I.D. you’re ready for that look of skepticism from the cashier. It’s not a fake— it’s the result of waiting in line at the DMV for five hours. And it’s still not enough to conquer the baby face.
You’ll hear people tell you how much you’ll love your baby face when you’re older.
You’ll hear it until you’re ready to punch people in their face.
You might not get wrinkles as quickly, and you’ll probably look like the youngest person in line for the senior discount at the movies.
But for the remainder of your young adult life, you’ll be sitting at the universe’s kids’ table.
Forget romantic meet-cutes, that handsome stranger on the train just thinks you look like jail bait.
You know you look young. But you have options. You can rage at the condescension of society like a smol, righteous ball of concentrated fury.
Or you can keep wearing the whimsical, colorful clothes you like (even though they make you look even younger). You can keep forgoing makeup (even though a little eyeliner can help you avoid being carded again).
You can fight the baby face, or you can own it.
