In a world where women often yearn for a youthful appearance, I find myself in a peculiar situation. I’ve reached my thirties, and while the club scene may still beckon us for birthday celebrations, there’s a hint of bittersweetness in the air—like we’re celebrating just to stave off tears.
Yes, I look younger than my age. I realize this every time I get carded for kombucha or when I’m mistaken for a student at the middle school where I work. Remarks like, “Oh, I thought you were in high school!” or “You must be the babysitter!” have become commonplace. So, to ease any confusion, I often introduce myself by saying, “Hi, I’m Audrey. I know I look younger than I am. Just wanted to get that out of the way.”
I welcomed my son into the world at 26, which by no means makes me a teenager, but in certain circles—like Park Slope, Brooklyn—it feels like I might as well be a child myself. Admittedly, I don’t mind looking young; if it means I’ll still look 45 at 60, then maybe all this youthful appearance is worth it.
Still, I’d rather not be treated like a kid. My role as a mother is incredibly serious, and I don’t appreciate being disrespected in front of my child. Take, for instance, that time I was running late to drop my son off at school. The teacher, who barely knew me, stepped into my personal space and sternly said, “You will not be late again.” As if speaking slowly would make me take her more seriously—well, it worked, and I stuttered out a reply, “I-I-I will try my very best.”
Embarrassment washed over me, and the assistant teacher’s awkward laughter didn’t help. The authoritative teacher repeated, “No. You WILL NOT be late again.” I found myself trembling and barely able to respond. “You don’t have to do that,” I finally managed to say. Afterward, I walked around the corner and burst into tears.
Living in Park Slope means preschools are as pricey as my rent, so it’s extra frustrating to be treated with such disdain when we’re paying a premium for the experience. Shouldn’t spending that money come with a certain level of respect? If I were 41, like many of the other affluent parents, would she have spoken to me that way? I can’t help but wonder if my youthful appearance plays a role in how I’m treated.
I’ve faced similar situations. Like that time an ER nurse gave me a lengthy lecture on why car seats are crucial for children. I know my son’s safety is paramount, and I’m not there for a crash course in parenting. Just because I look young doesn’t mean I lack knowledge.
So, if you look your age, embrace it! Aging has its perks, one being that people are less likely to question your decisions. They’re more inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt, which must be nice.
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In summary, while I may look like I belong on a reality show about teen moms, it doesn’t mean I should be treated like one. My journey through motherhood is serious, and appearances shouldn’t dictate how others perceive my capabilities.