That’s a seven, not an eight.

When I was seventeen I may or may not have had fake id. Until I was nineteen (legal age in my province of residence), whenever I was in a situation in which there was a possibility of being asked to present id, which may or may not have been fake, I was terrified. When I was about twenty four I began to do the eye rolling, huffing, indignant thing that people who are of a legal age do when they are asked to present id for an activity which they are clearly old enough to engage in. Now, at the oh-so-young age of twenty nine, blushing in a flattered sort of way is my response to being asked to prove my age. On December 18 I was in the liquor store and was asked for id. The conversation proceeded as follows:

Middle-ish Aged Cashier Lady: Oh, just turned nineteen ey. Making good use of the id already.

(My birthday is December 12)

Me: Umm, no that says 79, not 89. But thanks.

Middle-ish Aged Cashier Lady: Oh my, you look so young.

Me: Thanks.

Now that I reflect on this encounter, I wonder if I really look ten years younger than I am.

More likely…..she just needs bifocals.

~ by markewin on December 27, 2008.