I Guess I'm Flattered...

Last night we trekked up to Deer Valley to listen to Lucinda Williams play while indulging in wine and cheese under the stars. It was a lovely evening despite the fact that walking into the concert I slipped on wet grass, got mud all over my pants, and twisted my ankle. Considering the fact that I often do spectacular back flips when I fall that make entire crowds of people stop and say "wow that must have hurt," I wasn't really worried about it.

About half way through the concert I walked back down the hill to grab another glass of wine from the "booze tent." I was greeted by a middle aged woman with incredibly nice teeth who didn't seem to worry she was selling alcohol to a woman covered in mud with a pronounced limp. Maybe she was at Woodstock.

Her: Can I see your ID? Later in life it will flatter you.
Me: (Takes out drivers's license and hands it to her).
Her: Wow, you look a lot younger than you are.

I know she was trying to be nice, but really, she just made me feel like some freak with a genetic disorder that causes me to age backwards. Also, I wondered how much of her observation was based on my face, and how much was based on the major break out on my cheek that makes me look like I belong in a Stridex commercial. I limped back up to the blanket, my wine in hand, my ankle not hurting half as badly as my pride.

Maybe I'll stop wearing sunscreen...