There I was, standing at the checkout counter, mentally listing all the stuff I need to do this weekend, when her voice broke through my concentration.
“May I please see your ID?”
Huh? I shook my head and looked at her, perplexed by the words that came out of her mouth. They sounded like English but were unfamiliar to me. She repeated it for me, smiling and perhaps thinking I just hadn’t heard the first time.
“Oh, sure. Wow, I haven’t been asked that in a long time.”
She laughed and said I should take it as a compliment, which I did. In fact, I giggled. There is no way I could possibly look under 21! I mean, I don’t necessarily look 37 (I might as well round up at this point since the day is less than a month away), but I look far older than my early 20s.
Then I realized this is what it must feel like to get older. You get cheap thrills when people tell you you don’t look your age. Now, I know there are some of you out there rolling your eyes at me, saying “37?! You think THAT is old? Listen here missy, when I was your age our IDs were chiseled on stone tablets and we had to drag them behind us on a chain because the wheel hadn’t been invented yet.” And I’m sure some of you just flipped me off via your computer screen.
For the record, I don’t think I’m old. I am getting older, perhaps a smidge wiser, and certainly more aware of each passing day. But I can’t help laughing at how getting asked for me ID kind of made my day. A nice cheap thrill. Sure, I know what you’re thinking. “Getting asked for her ID was the thrill of her day? She must have NO life…” Not entirely true. I do have a life. In fact I even have a super-duper, secret life full of intrigue and romance that only a few people know about. But that’s a story for another day.
Today, I’m just going to enjoy being mistaken for a youngling because it might not be too long before people start calling me a cougar.