Every once in a while, I've found myself curious about how old I look. It comes up in conversation on occasion, just in general. So you wonder, vaguely, but rarely worry about it. I mean, early 20s, it really doesn't matter. However, in the space of 24 hours, I learned and then had it confirmed, that I look young. Quite young.
While, at a pottery painting place with my mom, the worker explained the studio fees to us, telling us that there was a free studio fee for those under 15. She hesitated then asked me, "Are you older than 15?" Um. Yes.
Then, at my cousin's wedding reception, the man across from us was talking high school memories with my dad. He then asked my dad which high school I went to, then turned to ask me how it was going. I blinked, then responded, "It was fine, but I graduated three years ago." He looked startled and blinked at me. It took several seconds for him to recover before asking me what my current ventures were.
Let's not bring up the officer at airport security who almost didn't believe me when I told him, showing him my driver's licence that I was, in fact, old enough to be travelling alone. And had been.
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