M is for...

I'm not a fan of the DMV. Not a bit. Actually, I don't know of anyone that enjoys their DMV visits. Even though nothing bad has ever happened to me there, I get a little panicked when I have to go. It's kind of a weird, random phenomenon.
I was completely relieved when I walked out the DMV doors last month, Utah driver's license documents in hand. They send the actual card through the mail about a month later. When my license arrived, I stressed about the picture just like any self-critiquing girl would, then resolved to deal with it, and set it aside.
Something was nagging at me though...
I picked my license up again for a more thorough inspection. Name spelled correctly, DOB correct, Height, Weight, Hair...etc.
Then I saw it. There at the bottom. A teeny little letter that should not have been there, that I have never before seen associated with any profile describing me. "M"
The horror set in. M.

M = MALE 

Speechless.

Being 25

I have this persistent tendency to start every single blog post with "So..."

Its seriously something I have to consciously avoid, and I think that is super weird.

SO... Now that I'm 25, I feel like I've earned a little bit of legitimacy in life. You know, like I've been around long enough to matter or something. If that doesn't make sense, then nevermind. Anyway, I wasn't sure what to expect from this year of life, but it felt like it would be significant. The 2nd day I spent as a 25 year old, I was asked TWO SEPARATE TIMES if I was a teenager.

AWESOME. False.

Context: A girl asked if I was over 18 at a retail store, first time I've been asked that since turning 20 and FAR WORSE even was a lady we ran into who I'd known as a child, who asked if I had graduated high school yet. Yes. Yes I have. Almost 7 years ago thanks. That was bad, but then she looked like she pooped her pants when I told her I'd been married for 5 years, so I added that I was 25, so she didn't think I got knocked up or something but that seemed to shock her too. There was no way I could have saved the encounter from the impending awkwardness anyway. You guess a 25 year old is just out of high school... well, there's no recovering from that.

I guess this should make me happy. I'd be just depressed if people guessed I was 7 years older than I am rather than 7 years younger, so I'd better be glad they think I'm 17 rather than 32.

I'm going to blame it on the bangs. Which I love by the way. Bangs rock.

So thank you life, for that super back handed compliment of sorts. It was... interesting.