I cruised through Costco yesterday before picking Ms.B up from school to pick up a few warehouse store essentials. At the register, the clerk asked me for my ID – I ran into a classmate from high school and didn’t quite catch the reason they asked me – I assumed it was for my credit card. I then realized he was punching my birth date into the computer…I just got carded?
I chalked it up to the guy being young…but then realized he was probably mid forties – not so young that he thinks everyone is over thirty but not so old that he would assume I was a young whipper snapper. I also realized that for the first time in a long time, my cart did not consist of diapers, wipes or some other baby specific thing. Usually the wine rolling around with the formula is a dead give away that my under age days are long behind me. Not to mention the deep, dark circle under my eyes that are so bad, there’s no way they came from just one night of partying – they are hard core “I don’t sleep because my kid won’t” eyes.
So I seriously was mistaken for being UNDER 21 years of age. Note to self: dry hair each morning, Kate Spade sunglasses were a good investment and buy more of whatever Bobbi Brown is selling because apparently it’s working. Or at least it’s working with the Costco crowd. Either way, I’ll take it.