Life After College: I’m Too Young For This

baby cap and gown

"I'm 22, dammit!"

I look very young for my age. If scientists took a lunch break from developing anti-aging creams and instead studied my delayed aging process they could figure out how to make everyone look eleven years younger (I had to one-up the TLC show).

When I tell people I just graduated from school they automatically assume middle school and tell me that I’llĀ  grow out of my awkward teen years soon. And when they find out that I’m actually 22 they reassure me that once I’m older I’ll appreciate looking younger. Like, great, when I’m 78 I’ll look 75. I’ll really impress all the men then; they’ll be wetting their Depends just to get with a young broad like me.

Throughout this whole summer I’ve tried to casually walk into bars only to be stopped by massive bouncers looking for an ID. They stare at them for hours trying to figure out how I got such a good fake and if I had to sneak out of my house to be there. They always reluctantly hand it back to me as if it ruined their night that I’m actually of age. By the time the bouncers are done scanning my ID for all possible forgeries, my friends are six pitchers deep and I’m shamed into actually feeling like I used a fake.

It’s like some sick joke that I’m technically too old to go back to college yet I don’t look old enough to be out without parental supervision.

When people actually do guess my correct age range (I accept 17-22) I blush and swoon. No other compliment gets me as heated as someone telling me I look my age. It’s the secret to my heart and I will spend the rest of the night feeling insanely mature. I give out free advice left and right because when I look older, I feel wiser. And everyone appreciates advice from the old and wise.

Anyways, since my internship is wrapping up shortly and no one has gotten around to fixing the economy yet, I’m about to have a lot of time on my hands. Time that I will fill with happy hours (or getting carded/double carded/strip searched attempting to get into the happy hours) and researching an alternative plastic surgery method that would give me the opposite effects of a face lift.

Real life is….awesome. (Note: that was sarcasm.)

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