Of Age

School is officially out for the summer! With joy and elation, I pranced like the most festive and rainbow striped of all gazelles.
To celebrate, I slept many hours, spent some time terrorizing a boy, and went to see the new Sex in the City movie with friends.

Disclaimer: I am not a Sex in the City person. I'd seen a couple early episodes and thought it was petty and trite and awful. There was not one character that I identified with, and though the show was largely about single women in NYC doing it on their own, the focus on fashion (boring) and sex (less boring but really... that's all you have to talk about?) left me rolling my eyes so many times I think I saw more of the inside of my eyelid than the screen. BUT, because I wanted to hang out with my girls, I went. To a matinée.

It goes like this.
I say, somewhat embarrassed and with disbelief, "One for the 4:20 Sex in the City."
The young pony-tailed girl behind the glass replies, "That'll be...blah blah blah too much money."
I hand over my credit card, she asks for ID. All's well and good. Except for the fact that I am paying to see a movie I'm not interested in.

She stares at my ID for what seems like half a century, and I'm thinking "How long does it take to compare my name with the name on the card?"
And then it dawns on me.

That isn't what she's doing. Frantically, my mind struggles to come up with other explanations than the one I know to be true. Finally, the words slip out of her mouth, making my fear a reality.

"Wow! You just look so YOUNG!"

.... I GOT CARDED. At the THEATRE.

Un...believable.

It's not like I was seeing some slasher movie at 10:30, all dressed up in black, hanging out with my obviously emo friends, wearing mermaid-like eye glitter, chucks and moodily enhancing my tresses with a strand of hot pink. Come on!!


For shame. One of these days, one of these glorious days, I'll look of age.

.