Age-ism

At a Kroger's in Bloomington, several months back, I was loading about six weeks' worth of groceries onto the checkout counter on a Saturday afternoon. When I put a bottle of whiskey on the belt, the middle-aged man behind me had the balls to ask, "Are you old enough to be buying that? It's for your father, isn't it?" I replied, "I'm older than I look." He made a couple more jokes, to which I replied, "I haven't lived with my father for over 10 years." The cashier, who heard the banter between the two of us, explained, "I'm still going to need to see your ID." Fine. I handed it to her and she said, "Wow, you do look much younger than that." I hope like hell she didn't tell the man behind me my age.

A few days later I drove my Honda to Firestone for an oil change. I had been going to the same Firestone for the five years I lived in Bloomington, so they've had my car on file and seen me there countless times for oil changes and tire changes and various what-have-yous. I handed my keys to the same man I'd seen every time I'd gone in, and he said, "Thanks, kiddo. We'll have your car ready in about an hour."

KIDDO?!

At my new job, about six of us females were having lunch together, and I pointed to a group of awkward intern-looking-folks who were carrying trays to the dishwasher and asked, "Did new interns start working this week because I've seen a bunch of those kids walking around." Kate laughed and said, "Some of us might consider you a kid. What are you, about 23?"

The next day, a coworker messaged me with a comment about how the pictures of "that little girl" on my desk couldn't have possibly been my daughter because I "couldn't be 30 years old." I asked, "How old do you think I am?" He replied, "Just a guess... 22?" I said, "You realize I was in school for 9 years before starting here." "Yes, I realized that but I thought you looked young."

Who the fuck am I - Doogie Howser?

Tonight, I was carded at the gas station for buying cigarettes. This is the last straw. The cashier read the birth date on my license and said "Oh, whoops." (And the first person to give me hell for enjoying and savoring the occasional cigarette because I should know better is going to get it. I do know better.) Point is, I am five feet tall. Not gonna grow any more. Doesn't mean I'm 12. I have long hair. Also doesn't mean I'm 12. In fact, I was probably done growing by the time I turned 12, and I'm tired of being judged and treated based on my height and the length of my hair. I have the smile lines. I carry myself like a 27-year-old should. I walk well in heels. I speak well. I don't know what more I can do to portray myself like and be treated like an educated, adult woman.

Any advice is welcomed.