Time in a Bottle

So when does it become flattering or slightly alarming when someone mistakes you for a teenager. At the age of 31, I still find it incredibly entertaining to be mistaken for a 20 something every now and then. But the other day — at the doctor’s office — a nurse’s assistant walked in and blankly asked me “how old are you?” My response was, “I’m 31 — why?” After her initial gasp, she explained that she had a list of questions that she normally asked a teenager and was thrown for a loop — after taking one look at my “young” appearance. Was a close ballpark that difficult to decipher? So, I’m what you would consider a young professional — readily able to be married and start a family immediately. But apparently looks-wise — I still look as if I should be studying for my Algebra test. What poses the most disturbing thought is — I was actually wearing make-up and my hair fully coifed. So had I walked in minus hair and make-up — would I have been mistaken for a 12 year old? Argh!

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