I experienced a bit of a narcissistic pleasure while the Sephora representative assisting my selection of a face wash wrestled with guessing my age. I have to give her props for her skill at tiptoeing around insinuating any age in particular so as to avoid any chance of insulting me, quite unlike the lady in the skating incident of '09.
You guessed it, I'm about to segway into a nice little story from my past. First let me ensure you all that I am well aware of my appearance suggesting an average age of 18. Now that I am full-force into my quarter-life crisis, I consider those way-off assumptions that I am under 17 (when I get my ID checked for R-rated movies) or under 21 (when cashiers at liquor stores ask me for my ID with the most skeptical expressions you can imagine) the best compliments I could ever ask for. However, 19-year-old Marisa still glowing with a sense of optimism about her youth and gleaming with hope for the future did not quite feel the same about being seen as an outrageous amount of years younger. So, one day in my 19th winter I went ice-skaing with my college buddies and stood in line to rent skates. As I approached the window, a woman who I visualize as being covered with warts and wrinkles (people's actions tend to morph their true appearance in my mind's eye) leaned down, took one look at me and said "oh honey, are you at least 14 or do you have your parents or guardians with you?" I am not sure what expression swept over my face but I'm sure it was not a pleasant one. I do, however, vividly recall the faces of my friends as they burst out laughing hearty guffaws. I was so personally butt-hurt from the incident; in a monotone I showed her my college ID and had never seen someone so embarrassed as she was when she reached out and took it to verify. Needless to say, I had an ever-so-minor breakdown when I got back to my dorm. It took a good deal of years, but now I can laugh in my 19-year-old self's face, much like my friends did at the time. It was, after all, pretty freaking hilarious.
The Sephora lady's eyes twitched uncomfortably every time my age came up. I asked her to recommend some cleansers and she would say "oh, but this one is for people more in their...um...earlyish to mid to late 20s and maybe sometimes 30.... not sure about for someone in their, well... your age group." Each time she seemed actively attempting to squeeze the information out of me, but I was enjoying her internal guessing game far too much.
You guessed it, I'm about to segway into a nice little story from my past. First let me ensure you all that I am well aware of my appearance suggesting an average age of 18. Now that I am full-force into my quarter-life crisis, I consider those way-off assumptions that I am under 17 (when I get my ID checked for R-rated movies) or under 21 (when cashiers at liquor stores ask me for my ID with the most skeptical expressions you can imagine) the best compliments I could ever ask for. However, 19-year-old Marisa still glowing with a sense of optimism about her youth and gleaming with hope for the future did not quite feel the same about being seen as an outrageous amount of years younger. So, one day in my 19th winter I went ice-skaing with my college buddies and stood in line to rent skates. As I approached the window, a woman who I visualize as being covered with warts and wrinkles (people's actions tend to morph their true appearance in my mind's eye) leaned down, took one look at me and said "oh honey, are you at least 14 or do you have your parents or guardians with you?" I am not sure what expression swept over my face but I'm sure it was not a pleasant one. I do, however, vividly recall the faces of my friends as they burst out laughing hearty guffaws. I was so personally butt-hurt from the incident; in a monotone I showed her my college ID and had never seen someone so embarrassed as she was when she reached out and took it to verify. Needless to say, I had an ever-so-minor breakdown when I got back to my dorm. It took a good deal of years, but now I can laugh in my 19-year-old self's face, much like my friends did at the time. It was, after all, pretty freaking hilarious.
The Sephora lady's eyes twitched uncomfortably every time my age came up. I asked her to recommend some cleansers and she would say "oh, but this one is for people more in their...um...earlyish to mid to late 20s and maybe sometimes 30.... not sure about for someone in their, well... your age group." Each time she seemed actively attempting to squeeze the information out of me, but I was enjoying her internal guessing game far too much.
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