Age is just a number

I'm in the grocery store yesterday picking up ingredients I forgot and also picking up about an entire cart full of beer for D. and the neighbor to have while watching the National Championship game. As I get in line, a kid carrying two cases of Bud Light heads over to the self-check lanes. He only looked about 12. OK, maybe 16. He scans his beer and heads over to hand over his ID. When said ID is deemed a fake, he runs out of the store like he's on fire. The checkers in the lanes around me are chuckling about the whole thing and looking at the ID. Now it's my turn to check out. I am in running gear with my hair up in a pony tail. In other words, I am looking as young as it is possible for me to look. I unload my cart full of beer (and a few other paltry items) and wait to be asked for my ID. Nothing. The kid scans it all, I pay and leave, trying hard not to be offended that I clearly look so far beyond 21 that there's no earthly need to check my ID. Didn't work. I'm still offended. And worse, I will no longer *ever* believe D. when he says I still look like my high school senior picture. Obviously I've married a practiced liar. And I look like an old hag. On the plus side, he's never told me I look like an old hag, even though I clearly do. :-P