Age and Being a Relative

I have recently been on a short diatribe about an incident at Storyland in NH. Essentially, I was mistaken for a "senior citizen" followed by disbelief that I was only 48.   The thing is, this is not an isolated incident.  On more than one occasion, I have been mistaken for my child's grandparent, my partner's parent and given a significant senior discount at Friendly's.

A friend of mine sent me a link to a CNN article that reflected the writer's process around being referred to as her child's grandparent.  The writer, a black woman, also wrote of being asked if she was the nanny.  I was asked once if I was auntie.  This query, coming after apparently being sized up as a gay woman who apparently could not possibly be an actual parent.

Being a grandmother in and of itself is not the issue.  It is the assumptive license taken by strangers.  Granted, not everyone has a child when they are 45. But not everyone has one when they are 16 either. The first time I was asked if I had any grandchildren, I was 35.  I was in shock.  But my cousin, by the time she was 35 was a grandmother 3 times over.  Of course, she had her first child at 16 and he had his at 19 (twins, more than one mother).

I think there is a disconnect between my perceived age and my self perceived age. I am not proud of my discomfort with the changes incurred with maturing.  After all, I am the same person who  wrote a paper in college stating "I am looking forward to the day when I will have a leathered, wizened visage". I appreciate my father-in-law, who used to introduce Maisie as his "little sister".  Of course, in his family his uncle is 17 years younger than his next sibling.

The best approach one gentleman took was asking if Maisie and I were related. When I said yes, he said he could see the family resemblance.  Suave.