by Meredith Mulhern

Picture this: It’s a cold winter day, and I am sitting in the waiting room of Littlefield Eye Associates in Waldo. A middle-aged receptionist sorts through files at her seat behind the desk, because, surprise-surprise, my mom has managed to mix up the insurance. AGAIN. But that’s for another column.

Anyway, the receptionist calls my name. I smooth out my STA skirt and walk up to the desk.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” she asks innocently.

“Sixteen,” I respond. This is when things get weird.

“OH MY GOSH, seriously?! I definitely would not have guessed that! I can’t believe you’re sixteen, that is amazing!”

I smile sheepishly in response to her overreaction and say my go-to line in these situations: “Thanks….? I get that a lot.”

And that is true – I do get that a lot.

Throughout my high school and middle school career, adults have been shocked about the correlation between my age and appearance.

For example, when I was in eighth grade, I found myself at Littlefield once again (they’re really bad about age, obviously).  I was sitting in the little machine chair thing that’s on the cover of Justin Timberlake’s latest album, and I kid you not, my eye doctor actually asked if I was in fourth grade. News flash, bud, I was fourteen.

Obviously this is a touchy topic for me because it can be very frustrating. If I’m volunteering somewhere, my age is always questioned and checked. Up until sophomore year, I basically looked like a seventh grader, and high school boys are not into girls that look like they’re in seventh grade -it’s okay, I’m pretty now. I still fit into kids clothes, yet all of my friends have been questioned if they are in college or not. Also, I play competitive soccer, and it’s not hard to knock around a girl that is just over five feet tall. It doesn’t help that I am not intimidating at all either.

However, being small and looking young does come in handy. Everyone thinks I’m very quiet and sweet and nice – ask my friends, I definitely do not have any of those qualities – so I can surprise people with my fabulous personality and dazzling sense of humor. That also comes in handy because I’m never suspected of doing something wrong. Adults love me; they trust me with their children, their homes, and their animals. Then again, the only bad thing I do when I babysit is steal packets of Welch’s fruit snacks.

Young looks also seem to run in my family. My grandma is almost 90, but she looks the same as she does when she was 60. My aunt is almost 60, but she looks like she’s 40. So maybe when everyone else who looks their age now is old, they’ll look their age when they’re older. However, I’ll still be looking like I’m twenty when everyone else looks like they’re 35. Plastic surgeons will hate me because I won’t need any work.
So, overall, the whole young looks thing evens out. I obviously won’t be bitter about looking young when I’m older, so I guess I’ll have to deal with looking like a middle schooler for a little longer.