14 to 29

Back in December, the day I turned 29, my dad and I went out to breakfast at a diner. We had a chatty, sort of sassy waiter, and he turned to me at one point with a sort of confused look on his face. "Okay, so let me get this straight," he said. "Are you, like, 14 or are you 25?"

It was weird. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he had picked those numbers because each represented this crazy exaggerated age. Obviously, there was no way I was 14. At the same time though, 25? Just as ridiculous.

The same thing happened to me this week. My boss told me that a librarian from a different department had asked her how old I was. "I mean, she looks 18! I can't believe she's married and has already finished college." Finished college? Good lord.

I can't tell if I should be upset about this. On the one hand, it's nice to look young, right? This is America, where we say things like "move it, Grandpa" if the car ahead of us doesn't react to the green light fast enough. Who wants to age? Still, when people in a workplace think you're 18, how seriously will they take you? I guess what bothers me here is the fact that I can't tell what the cause is: is it my strangely impossible-to-assign-an-age-to face, or is it my smiling, folksy Wisconsin demeanor? And if it's the latter, should I change it?

Even if I wanted to change it (which I don't), could I?

And who says being "nice" keeps you from being respected?

Am I even "nice"? Maybe I just come across as immature.

No, I don't think so.

Maybe I should work on lowering the tone of my voice when I talk.

Or is that weird?