Baby Faced

Alright. So I've been told before that I look "young" in contexts such as, "Wow, you're married? You look too young to be married" or "You are my baby's nurse? You look so young." While I might appreciate these comments later in life, right now I find myself wondering if people take me seriously or if everyone thinks I'm some girl who has somehow managed to get a college education, land a job and a husband all before being legally able to vote. Since having Mason I haven't gotten as many of these comments. Probably because people don't want to say anything in case I turned out to indeed be a teenage mom. I was appreciating everyone's silence, that is until last week when that silence was broken. Twice. The first instance took place at a Reading Phillies game. We were there with Nic's co-workers and I was sitting behind Nic letting Mason walk up and down the row of seats. It was obvious that I was with the group (which consisted of people close to my actual age) and it was also obvious that the small child was with me. However, this didn't prevent a young girl, clipboard in hand, approaching me and asking if I was in high school. She was doing a survey of sorts and needed to talk to kids in high school. Okay. So I look like I'm in high school. I guess I can deal with that. It was the second instance that really creeped me out. We have a cute elderly couple who live beneath us and last week while we were visiting them we were reminiscing about when Nic and I moved in a year ago. Frank (our neighbor) was like, "I saw you unloading boxes (motioning to me) and then I saw Nic and I have to tell you, I thought you were his daughter!" Wow, really? Come on now. First of all, thats gross. Second, does everyone who sees us think that? And third, um...gross. So in response to all of this, I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow. Nothing crazy, but maybe it will help. I'm also planning on changing my wardrobe to include festive vests and real light-up earrings. Because really...what teenager wears those? Any other hints or suggestions are welcome. Just don't ask me to start flatulating in public, drinking metamucil or wearing adult diapers because I just won't do it.