If Looks Could Kill

No kidding. The doorbell just rang, and a nice looking young man is on the other side. I smile and say hello, and he asks me if my mom or dad is home. The look on my face must have been startled, or even incredulous, because he immediately backtracked, and said, " Uh...or are you the mom...?" Uh, ya. I'm the thirty year old mom wearing converse tennis shoes, and blue jeans with a blue linen sweater. So sue me. He apologized and said how wonderful it was to look so young, then took his ball cap off an showed me his 29 year old (I'm OLDER than him!) balding head. Not a little bald, a lot bald. He said he'd trade me...and while I envisioned a "Freaky Friday" type switch, I mumbled "Trust me, I would too..."

I'm so tired of hearing about how young I look. Even my fellow high school classmates (Love you guys) voted me least changed, when to me, I was far from it. A lot of them looked exactly the way I remembered them....I get looked over at makeup counters, people have asked for my daddy when I pick up the phone...Ahhhh! I am proudly thirty years old. I have a soon to be thirteen year old, and a soon to be ten year old. I dress my age for the most part, and I wish to hell I looked as old as I felt. Youthful looks are worthless unless I also get to enjoy the lack of responsibility and carefree weekends driving recklessly on back roads with my best friend. My face is still red. Embarrassment? or Irritation? I'll let you figure it out...