From the time I hit puberty, I have had to defend my age. I have always looked younger than I am. By the time I hit high school, people couldn't tell who was older - me, at 16, or my sister, at age 12. When you're 20, it's insulting to be asked what high school you go to. As an adult, I've answered the phone and been asked if my mother or father were home.
My biggest fear about all this has always been that one day, my looks would catch up and when I'm finally old enough to want to look younger, I'll actually look my age, or worse, older.
Well. Yesterday put my fears to rest. At least for now.
Here's the scene:
While going about my business baking homemade bread and sewing my own clothes, (or maybe I was eating chocolate),my door bell rings.
I answer to a young salesman at my door.
"Good afternoon. Is your mom or dad home?"