You're How Old??!!

I have spent years haunted by an odd inability to look my age – this the problem of my ostensibly endless youth. I admit, it’s not all physical – I do give off a school girl vibe, but that’s my personality and I’ll be 65 and be the same. It’s my appearance I find challenging, starting with my height, or lack-there-of. At 5’1”, with a soft voice and no sign of wrinkles, I can be easily mistaken for someone much younger.

Don’t hate me when I tell you this. You may think it all a blessing but when you're trying really hard to be an adult, the perception of youth, and it’s subordinated status, is frustrating. I’ve fallen victim to the condescending smiles of executives who sit idly through my presentations, not hearing a word I say but noticing how “oh so cute” my chiming sounds, I’ve worked through complex contract negotiations only to have my client ask for the decision maker (ouch), I’ve even been the subject of disbelief by neighborhood children who argue vigorously that I’m far too little to be a mommy!

It was no easier being a teenager. Those uneventful years I blame on the limitations of my childlike appearance. I never, EVER got into a bar underage, never dated a guy older than me, if even my own age – never because, with my countenance, it just wasn’t possible. I felt the weight of what seemed an eternal curse - the girl whose mind matures even as she physically remains a child. I remember watching Kirsten Dunst’s character in “Interview With A Vampire” with gross sympathy as the little vampire came to realize that while she could never grow old, she could never grow up either.

I recall one year, my boyfriend (now my husband) and I went on a day long roadtrip from Orlando (where I was stationed for a conference) to Key West. We stopped at a gas station, hubby filled up while I went in to pay. I pulled out my AMEX card at which point a curious cashier asked how old I was. “Twenty seven” I announced uneasily. He pulled back in shock and exclaimed “Why honey, you don’t look a day over twelve!” Twelve?! That hurts.

I remember another time I was leading a large technology based initiative with insurance companies across the country as well as their governing body. The lead consultant to the regulator, upon learning of my appointment said to my boss “Really? You’re giving it to her? Isn’t she, you know, junior?” “Oh no,” my boss replied. “She’s not junior. She’s just little.”

Yes, there are moments I wish I really was a vampire…

I keep telling myself that one day I’ll be happy about all this, that my youth will be my calling card, or at least I’ll hang on to my vitality much longer than some – but I’m not so sure. I do hope I get to be the person I feel I am inside. Mature, complicated, earnest – perhaps a girl, but only in spirit – outside all sophistication and smarts. To be “Madame, Ma’am, Lady or the like. Deep down, all I want is to be a “woman”.