In which it was totally flattering.

I walked over to the Chevron on my lunch break and bought cigarettes. The lady behind the counter asked to see my ID. I handed it over and she looked at my birth date.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, grinning at me. “You really don’t look your age!”

It was awesome. Although it could be the fact that I dress like a kid, I’m blaming it on the good haircut and the diet. (Yes, I’m dieting. It freakin’ sucks, but I’ve gained weight since having surgery last fall – apparently bleeding to death was using a lot of calories! – and I simply cannot stand this gut any longer omgwtfbbq.)