People Who Go Back Are Just Built Different

I look several years younger than I am. I’m twenty-four but regularly get mistaken for sixteen and younger — even twelve at one point.

Mom was signing my little sister up at the middle school after moving states, and I was with them. We were sitting in a room with one of the counselors, getting my sister all checked in and filling out paperwork. Toward the end, the counselor looked at me and addressed me.

Counselor: “And are we signing you up for high school today, as well?”

I replied after a moment of silence.

Me: “I’m twenty-four.”

The counselor put her hand on her face and started laughing with a look of disbelief.

Me: “I’ve done my time; I’m not going back.”

Counselor: *Still laughing* “I get it. I’m still doing mine. Some of these kids…”

Me: “Yeah, there’s nothing scarier than a thirteen-year-old girl.”

The counselor continued laughing, paused for a long moment, and then responded in a serious tone.

Counselor: “You know, I have to say, that’s entirely accurate.”