Ah, but I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now

It happened again, people. I popped out to the supermarket (not the Ghetto Supermarket, alas, just the ordinary one) to procure some wine and Haribo sweets for Terry and I to enjoy during tonight’s Big Brother Final. (Terry doesn’t like wine and I’d kind of eaten all the Haribo sweets by the time I got home, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, y’know?).

As I placed my items carefully on the conveyor belt thingie, ignoring the pensioner who was repeatedly slamming her trolley into my back (There’s always one, isn’t there?), though, I noticed the checkout woman clocking me suspiciously. It was then that I knew it was about to happen again: our lady of the till had clearly mistaken me for a madcap teenage tearaway, intent on scampering off to the bike sheds to "get wrecked" with my hooligan "mates", on a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Because I bet that’s exactly the teenage binge-drinker’s tipple of choice these days, isn’t it?

Sure enough: "I’ll need to see ID" she snapped, challenging me with her eyes. I rooted through my wallet, dislodging eighteen credit cards, two press cards (WHY?) and a passport-sized picture of a slightly-demented looking Terry before finally handing over my driving license. She scrutinized it carefully before handing it back, wordlessly. "I love it when this happens," I quipped, hilariously. And actually? I totally do. It used to offend me when I was asked for ID. Now it’s quite thrilling. The last time before this one was on Christmas Eve, when I attempted to buy one of those cheesy "A Gift from Scotland!" things that have a whisky miniature in them. Because, again, that’s exactly what I’d buy if I were an underage drinker. I mean, is it just me, or are teenage delinquents getting more sophisticated? When I were a lass (this was all fields, then) it was a can of warm shandy if you were lucky: now it’s Pinot Grigio and single malt whisky. God, I’ve made myself feel old again.

I dunno, maybe it was the Haribo sweets that did it? Or the fact that I was wearing – gasp! – a hoodie. I won’t be calling off the Botox just yet, anyway, that’s for sure. (Joking! I’m joking! I’m not considering botox. I’m considering a Hydrafil instead.)

Anyway, the wine is cooling in the fridge, the Haribo mix is chilling in my belly and I will now spend the rest of the day calling the Big Brother winner’s line repeatedly to vote for Aisleyne. I urge you all to do the same. If you need some reasons, here’s my latest post on the subject for TV Scoop.

Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman, and you can follow me on Bloglovin' here.

5 Comments

  • Reply August 18, 2006

    Erik

    I'm 37 and got carded about a week ago. You'll probably get carded into your 50's.

    Are Americans allowed to vote on UK Big Brother? I bet it would cause more uproar than if I voted in a general election.

  • Reply August 18, 2006

    Amber

    Oh, definitely vote! We like some controversy!

    I hope I still am getting ID'd at 50. Hopefully the botox will take care of that…

  • Reply August 18, 2006

    jen

    I read that and chuckled rather heartily to myself, I , having the misfortune to look 14 if a day, get ID'd everywhere;) So it's nice to know I'm not alone ;)

  • Reply August 20, 2006

    Fitzgerald

    Hey Amber! Thanks for the linkage to my site! :-)

  • Reply August 21, 2006

    Mike

    Fingers crossed I still haven't been ID'd in my life :) It got even worse when I grew the beard, people already think I'm older than I am. Maddy once admitted to thinking I looked 24…when I invited her to my 21st party :-)

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