Twice this week I have been mistaken for a teenager. The first time was at Zumba. "Dancing Queen" was playing and the instructor said something about pretending like we're 17 again. After the song the finished, she pointed to me and said, "But you really are 17." The second time I was at the library working on my computer. A signature-collector approached me and said, "Are you old enough to vote?" and explained that he thought I was in high school and wasn't sure if I was old enough. I'm not sure what to make of all this. I guess it explains why people are always shocked to find out I'm married. They probably think I'm 17! It's a little irritating now as I'm trying to assert a "grown-up" identity, but I guess I'll be grateful when I'm 30 and people think I'm still in my 20s.
I am Michele. I'm half-Vietnamese, half-English, half-Peruvian. Confused? It's okay, I was too. I currently live in Washington D.C. with my awesome halfer husband Matthew. This blog is where I ramble about life.
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