Granny got carded

Remember the days when not being carded in a bar was a scrumptious event? I dated this guy when we were both 19, and he had this mature look about him, and he never got carded. I was rabidly jealous of him. It turned me Bunsen-Honeydew-green.

Well, those days are over. The scales have tipped. Now it's a toss-up: sometimes I'll get carded and sometimes I won't. And I realized that I'm on the Flo Jo fast track to never-being-carded-land and not feeling too excited about the trip.

Don't get me wrong, I am still a sweet young thang. I play "Oh My" by Tweet regularly and sing the "buttery brown" part extra loud. But I had two rounds of Will I Be Carded in the past three days, and they were so different, I can tell I am in a unique position. Equal parts Mrs. Robinson and Elaine. What day of my life will these two parts be EXACTLY 50-50? I think it was this week.

Scenario One: I meet a friend at a bar/restaurant for lunch two days ago. Before seating us, the hostess says "You want to sit in the bar? You better have your ID with you, girls!" followed by a booming Vincent Price laugh to indicate that she was SO kidding. Her glaring subtext was "Grandma Moses and Aunt Bee here are so far past 21 that they need their bifocals to see it!" My friend and I laughed politely.

Scenario Two: Before seeing a play last night, the Neighbors and I went to dinner. The waiter asked to see my ID, and I was just a little too excited to show it to him. I'm dangerously close to being an ID hussy, showing it all around. He looked at my birthdate and said "oh! you're older than I am!" which took away from my rejoicing a little bit, but he followed up with "you've got such a young face." Nice save, my son.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl