october 25

woman

I'm already telling people that I'm 28, even though my birthday isn't for another three weeks. This is because it seems almost dishonest to tell people I'm 27 when I'm almost not anymore. This is also probably because when I was in school I was always the youngest kid in my class. I would actually forget how old I was and think I was actually a year older because most of my friends were.

The other reason it seems pointless to tell people I'm 27 is because everyone thinks I'm older than I am. This has not always been the case, at least not in my 20s. In fact, this is quite recent, like in the last month. I was worried that my looks really were going to hell. I mean, I see the changes. My cheeks are not as full and smooth as they once were. When I'm the least little bit dehydrated, or I haven't had enough sleep, my skin hangs off my cheekbones and forms these little valleys from my lower eye socket to my deepening laugh lines.

Of course, no one else sees this happening to my face. And really, I only see it clearly when I'm under the fluorescent light, looking in the mirror in the elevator, riding up to my office at 8 AM before I've had my coffee and probably only six hours of sleep.

The only person who notices the change is A*, who never believed me when I said I looked like my mother. But I do, in subtle ways: the shape of my jawbone, my chin, my lips, my deep-set eyes. He now says he can see the resemblance. I wonder how he really feels about this.

So, once I convinced myself that I do not, in fact, appear 35 because of my sagging skin, I started wondering why, all of a sudden, people thought I was much older than I am. I remembered how this always happened to me when I was in high school. There's a picture of me hanging on my fridge that was taken when I was 13 and a freshman. I have a full grin on my shiny, rosy face. I'm happy. I knew who I was and I knew what I was doing. I look 18. Guys in their 20s would pick up on me. It scared me to death.

Through my 20s, I think I looked exactly my age. At 22, I was insecure and frustrated and I had Friends hair. At 24, I was starting to find my way, but was absolutely panicked that I would never attain this future I wanted. I changed my hair constantly and gained 20 pounds. At 25, right before I started to figure it all out, I reverted back to pink baby shirts and shiny jeans (I'd lost the weight), wondering if I really was ready to be a grown-up.

Now, I'm sure the fact that people are surprised when I say, "I'm twenty-eight," doesn't have anything to do with having an older-looking face. I think it's because, finally, I am my own woman. I have my company. I have freelance opportunities. I know my shit and I'm good at it. I am doing what I've always wanted to do and more. I have what some people never get. And I have what many people don't get until their mid-thirties.

And that's why people think I'm older. Because I'm a woman who's got her shit goin' on.

8:24 p.m. - october 25