Ouch

Ever been pegged as much older than you really are?

Last month, Mrs Woog blogged about being mistaken for her sister’s mother while shopping in Target. It was very funny. Well, the way she told it was funny, I don’t think it was a barrel when it happened.

This time last year, something similarly ego-crushing happened to me. I thought I’d revisit the blog I wrote about the incident, because I’m tired … and it’s Sunday … and I’m scattering my grandmother’s ashes in a few hours … and I think I’ve said enough – publicly – for one weekend …

“A grumpy old woman was in front of me in the bank queue last week. She was 70 in the shade and mad as hell. The beleaguered bank teller had to swivel his computer screen around at one point to prove he wasn’t lying. I was his next customer. I smiled sympathetically at him. He took my cheque and looked at his screen. His eyes went wide. “I was about to tell you how good you looked for your age,” he jovially announced, after realising he was still looking at the old lady’s account details. “You still look really good for your age,” he hastily added, closing the old lady’s details and opening mine. Cheers, mate. Thanks for mistaking me for someone born in the 1930s.

I renewed my driver’s licence yesterday. It was a similarly uplifting experience. My lord, I looked bad in my photo. The RTA should employ the photo elves from Santa’s Magic Cave. That way you could pay them extra to take your photo again and again and again until there’s one that’s not totally depressing. This system of taking a random photo – without even warning you … flash! – then handing over the awful finished product just isn’t working for me. I looked soooooo old. I looked sooooooo ugly. I looked like I belonged on the set of Prisoner, playing Bea on a really bad day. With rattier hair.

Three years ago, I had the option of a five-year licence and didn’t take it. What was I thinking? I could have looked 40 until I was 45. Instead I chose to look 60 when I’m 43. I based my decision on some misguided idea that it was good to save 50 bucks. When I got the three-year licence I was appalled – I looked terrible. Now I look at it and see a shining young goddess. Except now it’s got a hole punched in it and is void. Why oh why oh why didn’t I go for the long-licence option when I had the chance?”

Mrs Woog also introduced me to a website that ages you, called http://www.in20yearstime.com. What a horrible concept! But I couldn’t resist trying it, being in a self-flagellating mood. Here are the results. (I like how they ask if you’re a drug addict before they make you over.)