My name is Evans, and by the combined powers of deoxyribonucleic acids and the cosmos, I am afflicted with the face of a baby. It's a genetic phenomenon that has been passed on for generations, and will continue long after I am dust. My fellow baby faced brethren may be cute and cuddly on the outside, but I am as fiery as an angry Shih Tzu on the inside.
Most people think it's some great, fantastic, terrific, beautiful, amazing, magical gift to have a face that refuses to age. And maybe it is. "When you're 50 it'll payoff, oh, oh just you wait!" they say. But I've been on this planet for almost 23 years and I have yet to reap any of its promised benefits. And on top of that, I realized that if the average life span of a man is 68 years, and I'm only 22, and it'll finally payoff when I'm 50 years old, that makes it only worth having for 18 years. I'm pretty bad at math, but I think that makes for a grant total of 50 years of me not being taken seriously. How magical, indeed. So here are some questions and instances that I'll deal with for the majority of my seemingly adolescent life:
"Wow, you look like you're 16!"
"Wow, how old are you?
Wait, how old are you!"
Being asked for ID at bars and movie theaters, then having to swear my ID isn't fake.
"What grade you in?"
Being stuck in between the good looking friend and the good looking friend's little brother.
"No but seriously how old are you though?
Being stopped by cops for high school truancy on a Tuesday afternoon even though I'm 6'2, 22 years old and about to get my bachelors degree.
"Is your mom or dad home, son?"
Being "one of the kids."
Being underestimated forever.
"Aww, peach fuzz! Too cute."
Instantly becoming 10 years old because there's a hat on my head.
So here's to an everlasting plethora of kids meals and student discounts, 28 more years of being annoyed at people, 18 years of deceiving annoying people, and death!