Ever since I got my hair cut short in May, I've felt old. And although only my husband was brave enough to say so, I've looked old too, sporting what could only be described as a soccer mom cut.
I hated it with a passion, but since it was so short, there wasn't much I could do to fix it, or even put it up in such a way that I looked like me and not some minivan-driving version of me.
The worst part was that people started treating me differently. They kept calling me "ma'am," and worse, I never got carded when I bought alcohol. I don't have a particularly youthful face, but I usually got the requisite request for identification.
Most stores are supposed to card you if you look like you're under 35, and the fact that long-haired me never got carded but short-haired me did...well, you can imagine the trauma. Once, I even tried to look shady and covert, but...nothing.
I tried to tell myself that cashiers were simply noticing my wedding ring and figuring that most married women are older than 21, but that was little more than a ploy to fool myself.
I wouldn't say I sunk into a deep depression, but I certainly didn't enjoy dealing with my hair in the morning.
Last week, I went to the salon to beg for deliverance, and I got it. When I got out of the stylist's chair, not a trace of my soccer mom look remained; I looked young and sassy. I haven't been able to duplicate the look, however, and now, I look like a young, sassy soccer mom. Oh well, it's an improvement anyway.
Yesterday, after a particularly long day of scrubbing bathrooms, steam cleaning carpets, doing laundry and tending to the puppy, I went grocery shopping to pick up some things to fill our new refrigerator, since we had to throw away the spoiled things from the broken one. I picked up a bottle of wine, and as I rolled up to the checkout counter, I heard those words I had been wanting to hear for so long.
"Could I see your ID?"
The funny thing was that after the day I'd had, I certainly looked at least 35, probably older. Nevertheless, I was overjoyed; I actually thanked the clerk, a move I'm sure most people under 35 wouldn't do...but hey, after my long day of hard housekeeping labor, I wasn't entirely sure how old I was. So I was glad I had the grocery store cashier to remind me.
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