StyleDiary: Nothing But A Number
A few weeks ago I got asked to leave the Wine Store while my husband shopped. No, I wasn’t sampling the goods, but I didn’t have my ID. Mind you the age requirement to buy (or be in the presence) of alcohol is 21. As an (almost) 31 year old woman, you would think I would find it flattering that the manager assumed I was ten years younger. I used to enjoy the look on people’s faces when I told them my age, but lately it had become nothing but annoying. Not because I don’t enjoy looking youthful despite the bags under my eyes, but I have found that people don’t take me seriously because I look like I am just (barely) out of college.
When I ask someone on my team at work to complete a task, they blow me off. When I give a presentation to a neighborhood group or elected body, they look at me cross-eyed. I am professional, assertive and well-dressed (if I do say so myself), yet I get treated as if I just fell of the turnip truck. My mother always said I acted mature for my age so why can’t I just look close to my age. Most women complain about looking old, gray hairs, wrinkles and so on and here I am complaining about looking like a teenager. Go figure.
On a related note, it was quite hilarious when my husband was a middle school teacher and I got mistaken for a student. Real funny.