I’ve come to the realization that I might be one of those people who perpetually believes I’m the same age as college students. That is, until I actually step foot on a college campus again and the fact that I’m at least six years older than everyone there hits me like a ton of bricks. I am currently getting my masters degree at DePaul University, which means I get a discounted gym membership. Score, except for having to work out next to girls who don’t yet know what the term “metabolism” means … or its mighty power.
Tonight I was walking to DePaul’s rec center, deep in my own thoughts, when I got sucked back into reality by the sound of what I’m guessing is a college sophomore saying to his friend, “Whoa, that girl is f—in’ tall!” Correction: yelling to his friend, “Whoa, that girl is f—in’ tall!”
I’m always so mad at myself for not having the wherewithal at the time to say things I later realize would be clever or appropriate. By the time they actually passed me, it was too late to say anything, but I wish I had at least screamed, “I can HEAR you!” Did he think I was deaf? Or too stupid to know I was the f’n tall girl? Or worse, did he just not care that I COULD hear him? Ignorance is bliss, I guess.
Either way, there was one redeeming thing about his flippant comment: His noun usage. He called me “girl.” Not “lady,” not “woman,” but “girl.” I guess that means I must qualify as looking college-aged to actual college students. Hey, it might have been dark outside, but I’m going with it … for at least another year.
