There must be something in the water here in Arizona, or maybe it is the lack of water, but I feel like I am Benjamin Button. I left Boise thinking I am a full-grown adult, I have a husband, and I finally look my age. Well this was a joke. I still do not look my age. I don’t know if it is my lack of enthusiasm when it comes to wearing makeup these days (it’s cheaper not to), or if it is my height (same since 6th grade), or continually diminishing body weight (#giproblems). I have had a cornucopia of interactions since we moved to AZ that has reaffirmed to me that I will be forever young.
My first Sunday in Relief Society I felt shy. Something I don’t usually feel. I quickly chose a seat. I was easily hidden behind the “adult sized” women in front of me. A few minutes later the sister missionaries sat down next to me. As the meeting started and as they introduced everyone, I was mistaken as a sister missionary. Now in this situation, I can understand the misunderstanding. I was a sister missionary just a few years ago, so somewhat understandable… Don’t worry, I got over this one pretty quickly. I did receive some satisfaction out of running up and kissing my husband right after class… I think that made some of the fellow sisters wince 🙂
The second event took place at none other than COSTCO. I guess in the workers defense, everything comes in bulk there, and I am in no way “bulk.” I grabbed my shopping cart and walked through the large opening and showed my OWN Costco (what teenage owns one of those?). I put my first item in the cart, and decided to use my calculator app on my phone to track how much money I was going to lose that day. As I looked down, an employee (maybe 21) came up to me and asked if I was lost, and if I had come shopping with my parents. I was in awe. I can understand that I don’t look 24, but I don’t look like I need adult supervision!
The third event happened yesterday. I had new neighbors moving in and they had two teenage girls. The mom looked like she needed help, so I offered to carry in some boxes. She said great, my girls could use some friends! I didn’t think twice about her comment, until she asked me how old I was. This isn’t usually something someone asks right away. I replied with 24, I live down stairs with my husband! She laughed hysterically, like I was kidding. She said there is no way, you have to be 14…
These comments will flatter me in a couple of years, but right now they drive me nuts. I can’t imagine the dirty looks I will get when I eventually get pregnant. I am sure many mothers will turn to their daughters and whisper in the grocery store, “maybe we will see her on teen mom.” Okay, now that my forever young rant is over…. Does anyone else have this happen all of the time?