I promise. I mean, at 28, I’m pretty darn growed up. I’ve been out of college longer than I was in it. I own a home. I’m married. I have a career, not just a job. If that’s not grown up, I don’t know what is.
And yet, I am often mistaken for a teenager. When I was 22, it wasn’t so surprising, as I was only a few years out of teenage-hood. But as I get closer and closer to 30, it throws me when someone makes the assumption that I’m 10 years younger than I am. Like when I started a new job a few months back and people assumed I was a new intern.
At church last year, I taught the ladies’ group once a month. It was always nerve-wracking, especially considering my youthful-looking-ness. I mean, are ladies ranging from 20 to 65 really going to take an 18-year-old know-nothing seriously? I think, though, it actually played to my advantage: if I ever said anything completely preposterous, they just chalked it up to my ‘age.’
So, this year, I have been asked to teach the 8-year-old children. I was excited at the prospect of teaching people who readily accepted my grown-upped-ness. I mean, they’re 8 – anyone over the age of 14 is grown up to them.
Or so I thought. After finding out where all the kids go to school, one of the boys asked me where I went to school. I informed him that I was done with school. High school, colllege, all in my past. He looked at me, and decided to accept my response. “Oh, I thought you were a teenager,” he explained.
I just can’t win!
Now, I’m not really complaining. I mean, cuz when I’m 40, I’ll really love looking 10 years younger. The husband will love walking around with his hot, young, trophy wife. But right now, I wish people would take me seriously. And, well, the husband really could do without the looks of disdain from all those lolita-haters out there …