On Looking Sixteen

I have always looked young for my age. When I was nannying during college, I went into the middle school to find the boy I was baby-sitting, and the receptionist asked me if I was waiting for my mom, too. When we moved up here two years ago I was checking out at the Farmer's Market, and again, the woman checking me out asked me if my mother was going to come pick me up. I have had more than one faculty/staff member at the school where we live ask me why I was not in class (though this was mainly in the first year we lived here, when no one knew what I, Preston's elusive fiancée, looked like). Since we got married last year, I have found that the addition of my wedding band helps tip people off that I am not, in fact, twelve. Occasionally, however, people still think that I'm much younger than I am, and I have to assure them that - at best - no, I really AM NOT a college freshman, and -at worst- no, Preston is not a pedophile in a relationship with a fifteen-year old. I give you these examples two, both from the last couple of days:

Example, the first: During my TA Orientation last week, some former TAs brought up the importance of creating a visual barrier between you, the TA, and the college students you will be teaching. In some cases (i.e. mine), there might just be a couple of years difference between you and the student, and the former TAs suggested that even by dressing up a little, you can immediately distinguish yourself from the class you are teaching. Although this means farewell to my beloved jeans-hoodie-Uggs uniform of last year, honestly, I have to start dressing like a Real Person sometime. It might as well be this year. SO. On Monday, before the intermediate Latin class, I totally dressed up. Like a REAL LIVE ADULT. And all was good and people didn't think that I was a freshman! Hurrah! On Tuesday, however, it was a little chillier, but I REALLY didn't want to wear my dress pants because I NEVER want to wear my dress pants, so I decided I would just break my Real Person clothing rules and wear jeans. I put the jeans and a cute sweater on, and headed to campus. As soon as I walked into the class' building, a student came up behind me asking me where our classroom was. I said that I didn't know, but that I was heading there as well, so we would find it together. "Are you in Latin too?" she asked. "I'm actually your TA," I told her. Laughing, she said, "Oh! I thought you were, like, a senior or something!" And then we had a delightful conversation about how I look like a sixteen-year-old, and I made a mental note that Jeans are on the Veto list.

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Example, the second. Last spring, Preston and I ran in a 5K at the school where he works. A few nights ago, at an Athletic meeting that Preston was attending, they showed a slideshow of pictures, one of which was Preston with his arm around me at this race. Which looks perfectly fine, if you know that I am his wife. If you don't, however, know that I'm his wife/of age, as one new colleague did not, you might think that Preston is a sketchball and has his arm around a student. When the new colleague made a comment about Preston touching this student (i.e. me), Preston assured the new colleague that he is allowed to touch me, as I am his wife, and I am totally on board with the arm around the shoulder. Also that I AM NOT SIXTEEN.

So there you have it. Two days in the life of not-sixteen-year-old Mary Frances. It is pretty awesome.