Lauren is not even a Formerly yet–she’s a pre-Formerly, but the specter Formerlydom looms large. Here’s all she wrote:
“I recently had cocktails with a business associate. She’s very fun to work with and have a really great energy about her so I always look forward to our meetings. We were at a posh Chicago bar, throwing back Prosecco, half discussing business. I felt good that day: good hair day, fab shoes, a skirt I didn’t have to secretly unbutton when I sat still for more than five minutes.
Well, she and I got on the subject of facials and aging skin, and she revealed her age as 38. I told her I was floored. “You look 28,” I said. She was flattered.
Then she asked my age. I was SOOOOO sure she would be just as floored when hearing my real age–most people guess my age around 27. “Go on, guess,” I teased her.
She looked at me, then paused. “Uhh… 34?” she asked?
WHAT?? WHAT????? I thought. Did she just say thirty-mother-freakin-four??
It was obvious from my expression that I was offended. She started to backtrack “Oh God… is that too old? How old are you??”
I looked at her in disgust. “I’m 33 but I don’t look it AT ALL. Most people guess 27!”
She relaxed. “Oh, so I was a year off. That’s still good…”
Yeah, well, not so much.
That little guess-my-age game first backfired on me and my friend Susan maybe 7 or 8 years ago when we went out to this hipster bistro near me and thought, hey, we fit in pretty well amongst the childless and fabulous! The swarthy young waiter was flirting with us, and naturally we assumed it was because we were so attractive, witty and edgy (and not because he was working to fund his acting career and thought, these women are old enough to earn enough to actually tip me).
“How old are we? Go on, guess!” We prompted him. He, too, guessed correctly, which made us feel like crap because you KNOW he thought we were older and shaved a few years off of his guess to be polite. Susan and I looked at each other and it was one of those moments when the noise and the music and the glass-clinking died down briefly and we heard our own emotions. They sounded like THIS.
Anyway, thank you to Lauren, whose blog about life’s little mortifying moments is lots of fun when you need a hit of that “No, it’s not just you” feeling. Which clearly I need often or I wouldn’t be begging for you ladies to share your Formerly/Finally moments!
Not for nothing, my Finally, now that I’m kind of over it, is “Finally don’t care if they guess my age right because, well, so what?” AND “Finally almost ready to start lying upwards about my age because then everyone will want to know which devil I’ve been dealing with to look this rockin’.”
I’ll let you know how that experiment goes.
Please send me your Formerly/Finally stories for next week!
June 21, 2010 at 5:10 pm
This made me laugh. Women get up in age and all that. I’m glad you’ve freed yourself from that anchor. I’m sure you look great!
June 22, 2010 at 10:08 am
As someone who has enjoyed a cocktail or three with Miss Lauren, I can attest she definitely can pass for 27 and has porcelain-smooth, china-doll skin with nary a wrinkle or age spot. She can also down sangria like a 19-year-old sorority girl.
June 23, 2010 at 3:26 pm
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XaruNs_7okY
My thoughts on aging
June 23, 2010 at 3:52 pm
Oh, I hate aging. Wish she would have said how the 38 managed to look 28 – we could all use some tips! 🙂
Anyway, everyone used to think I was just a baby even at 22 or 23 they didn’t think I was older than 18… now at 26 I don’t get it so much… lol. I just hope I hold onto whatevers left until I’m 35 – I won’t mind looking 26 at 35!!
Saw you on SITS!
June 30, 2010 at 5:37 pm
So often, I am mistaken for being younger, and for much of my life it has annoyed me. Like when I took my high school students on a field trip and the museum docent thought I was one of the kids, and stood back in shock to find out I was the teacher. Now that I have two kids, though, and I’m 30, I’m ready for people to mistake me as younger. Funny how my position has changed!
July 2, 2010 at 9:59 am
That stinks. I just stopped getting id’d, which means I must look old. Not happy about it at all. The consolation? My husband is 8 years younger than me and people always guess him as older. Ha ha!