Eighteen?

My whole life I have dealt with people telling me that I look younger than I am - from being asked up to six times for my ID at Grand West Casino, to being checked at clubs or refused entry point blank. And then I arrived in Korea.

Being in Korea was a nice change for me. Being surrounded by people who look younger than they are led to people being shocked that I was actually around the age they thought I was. There were always ooh's and ah's whenever I told my students my real age (even when that age was in Korean and was technically two years older than my actual age) and they realised that, yes, I was that young! The idea that I should be older was also compounded with the number of foreign teachers who arrived, most of whom were upwards of 24 (Western) years old. This meant that I was always hanging out with people who were at least two years older than I was, most of whom were even older. Whenever my age came up, there would always be a comment along the lines of: "Oh, right... I forgot you were young."

By the time I came back to South Africa, I was used to people thinking I was older than I actually was. This is why it came as a bit of a shock on Thursday when I was test-driving cars to have the salesman climb in behind me and say: "Now, young lady. You do have your license, right?"
Well, of course! Why else would I be climbing into the drivers seat? Why else would I be buying a car? Why else would I... oh, never mind. So he thought I was a high-school or early university student. So what?
Most of the sales reps that we spoke to commented on what a lucky girl I was to have my dad buying me a car. And I am lucky. But I am also contributing. This is not one of those instances where a daddy buys his little princess a car and pays for her petrol, insurance, licensing, etc. I offered to contribute half and pay the rest off, but my dad has luckily offered to help me out in the interim. Anyway, enough with that rant.

I was reminded of the fact that I look young once again yesterday when I went with my friend Ashlea for a massage. We arrived at the place and were escorted to the back where we were each offered a glass of wine.
"You're having one too, right," the masseuse, one of Ashlea's friends, asks.
Before I can answer, her friend chips in.
"How old are you anyway?"
I think for a moment, still used to replying in Korean age and also around the corner from my birthday, before replying "23."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Really?"
"Yes. Why? How old did you think I was?"
"My age!"
"And how old are you?"
"18!"
Now, I know that I look young, but I really didn't think I looked that young. I like to think that I have grown up a bit from the years of being refused entry at clubs, but apparently not!

In any case, my humiliation at being called 18 was shortlived, as that evening my family came over for a braai.
"Lara," my aunt exclaimed when she saw me, "you're looking so grown up!!"
This sentiment was shared many times over the night as my aunt, cousin, grandmother and grandfather all discussed how much better I was looking - thinner, taller (though Daron may disagree on that point) and generally more mature. Mom was quick to point out, however, that she too had recently had a bit of a compliment.

You see, when I went to the bank last week, the teller took one look at my drivers license and asked, "Do you have an older sister?"
"Yes," I said with what must have been a confused look on my face. "Cherie. But she doesn't bank here."
"No, not Cherie," she replied. "Beverley Salomon."
My mom rejoiced when I told her the tale, marvelling in the compliment, but I was quick to pick up that it wasn't such a compliment for me! Do I look old enough to have a 50-something year old sister?!

So my question for you today is this: Would it be better for people to think you are older, or for people to think you are younger?