Let's Settle This Right Now

As the days inch us ever closer to the new year, I am making a preemptive resolution to look older than twelve. To those of you who say I have a "youthful" face or that one day I'll be glad I look eleven years younger than I am: I appreciate what you're trying to do, but stop it. No, seriously. Stop it right now. I do not particularly enjoy looking prepubescent, and nothing anyone says will make me delighted to appear as though I've just walked in the door from my first day of junior high.

Thinking that my curls make me appear younger, I've tried straightening my hair. I have almost entirely eliminated my forays into the world of people while wearing my beloved sweatshirts and Keds (though if my soul could wear clothes that is exactly what it would wear). While shopping is an activity to which I will put a swift end once I am elected Ruler of the Universe, I have conned my friend Anneka into helping me purchase what I call "big girl" clothes in the hopes that my appearance has everything to do with my wardrobe. So far, I have yet to see proof that this has worked. I just don't get it--the "it" referring to both shopping and my age dilemma.

And so I am asking you, my ones of readers, to be blunt. What's wrong with me? I want to be twenty-six, not sixteen!

Contrary to what many might think, this was not taken last week.

Here I think I actually was twelve. I'm not positive, though. I could have also been SEVEN.

This was senior year of high school. Ellie--the most gorgeous human being on the planet--looks like she's in her mid-twenties. My hair is straight(ish) and it's a black-and-white photo so I look older than I otherwise might, but come on. Sixteen tops.

This was just over a year ago. Michael looks his age, Anneka looks her age. No way do I look older than eighteen.