Story time.
One night this past year, I went to an open bar in New Jersey with my mother and sister Rachel to see my uncle and his band play, which they've done the first Friday of every month for a while. I'd never seen the inside of a bar before, and even though I knew I wouldn't be able to drink, I was stoked to finally be able to see the band perform.
During the hour-long car ride, I imagined myself strolling through the door, looking all cool and grown up in my signature when-in-doubt-put-on-more-eyeliner makeup, band tee, and ripped jeans. Maybe they'd even forget to card me! I sat, more impatient by the minute, as we parked and walked up to the bar.
Not even five seconds after entering, a big man in a black shirt stopped me, and my shoulders dropped in embarrassment when he said, "You're under 21. Right?" Now, I sported a bright orange stamp on my hand to complete my outfit.
Still think it's not embarrassing? Just you wait. I turned back, waiting for them to card Rachel, who was over a year younger than me. She walked in, smiled at the bouncer... and walked right past him. I groaned, realizing that he, just like anyone else who had met the two of us, thought her to be older than me. Still I'd never realized how much older she looked in comparison:
I'm used to being mistaken for a much younger age than I actually am, despite my efforts to look older. I've packed on more makeup, gotten taller, and I've even sworn like a sailor to try to appear more "mature." The point remains, though; it doesn't make me appear older, it just makes me look like a 15-year-old that wears too much makeup, doesn't understand heels, and curses way too often.
Still hungry for more? Here's another story.
I was in Justice with my mother shopping for my 12-year-old cousin Lola. As most of us know, Justice is famous for being the holy grail for preteens who love anything with sequins on it. My mom handed me the skirt she'd picked out for Lola while she looked through the store for a matching top.
Well, as anyone who has been in a department store knows, it's almost like the clerks can smell your flesh when you walk in, flocking to you with deals and discounts. I tried not to notice one of them walking towards me, but it was far too late. I half-smiled, saying hi back as she greeted me. She pointed to the clothes in my hand, and I nearly died of embarrassment when she said, "Were you looking to try those on?"
Anyone who has been called "cute" as the first adjective of choice will know what I mean by this. I'm not going to be the girl men call "sexy" or "hot," and there was a time when that fact would bother me to no end. Still, I can't deny that there are a lot of perks to looking younger than I actually am.
I find it amusing when people discover my real age. More than anything, I definitely enjoy the look of confusion on people's faces when they hear my vocabulary. No, I don't mean the vulgar type. The one way I've found that I appear more mature is by my word choice and the way I speak. For instance, someone will think I am barely a teenager, then hear me use the word "superfluous" in casual conversation. Boom. I just aged considerably in that person's eyes.
Even though I might appear younger to others, I can't say that I completely hate it. Sometimes it's entertaining to see people trying to figure out my age, and yes, I have made people try to guess. In the end, I know that I will appreciate it more than ever when I am just treading 30 and looking 25 to everyone else.
