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A Difference in Perception

November 9, 2013

I swear, my life is one big romantic comedy, or at least it seems that way in my head. I don’t really mind; it makes my life fun to live. Other people have talents and hobbies to add flavour to their lives; I have comedic episodes to add flavour to mine (but let’s hope I have some of the former ingredients too).

Yesterday, in an attempt to make an awkward joke-slash-start-a-conversation with a cute guy at Starbucks, I inadvertently compared myself to his 50-year-old mother. I’m still chuckling at it now.

Cute guy (talking to Starbucks Barista): … watches Netflix for hours on end.

Me (joining in): Ha ha. Sounds like me!

Cute guy (still talking to Barista): I mean, she’s fifty! I tell her, “Mom, you really should stop that.” I can understand why people become so engaged in a book that they don’t want to put it down because that happens to me all the time, but Netflix? Really?

Me: Um….

Then, a two hours later, I went grocery shopping and caught myself peering at a fifty-something-year-old woman in the distance because I was sure that we had the same jacket–the same jacket that, two weeks ago, had prompted my mom to say, “That jacket makes you look like a grandma when you’re only a teenager!”

Okay, putting aside that my mom was grossly wrong about my being a teenager–obsessively watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix for hours on end do not a teenager make–I DO NOT look like “a grandma” in my new jacket.

Yes, the jacket does come up to my ankles. Yes, the jacket has large brown cuffs and large sleeves that allow me to slip opposite hands into them and make me look like her:

Wenceslas Hollar - Woman with muff and fur

Except I imagine myself to look more like her:

broadtail_fur_jacket_with_ermine_collar_and_muff_1900

But I do not look like a fifty-year-old grandma in that jacket. Or do I….

The thing is, I like looooooooongggggg jackets just in the same way that I like long dresses and long skirts. I don’t know why “long articles of clothing” are often attributed to “older” people. Maybe that’s because people of my generation like to wear “shorter articles of clothing.” See, whenever I slip on any one of my long jackets, I feel, oddly enough, young.

It’s bizarre, but whenever I slip on a long jacket, I almost feel like one of the girls in “Little House in the Big Woods,” which was my favourite book when I was eight. All the other girls had their Montgomery; I had my Wilder. The female characters in that book always wore large hats and long jackets with huge fur cuffs and muffs as they trekked through the woods. So now, whenever I put on my long jacket and am heading out to class, I feel as though I am about to embark on a long journey through the woods–a long journey of adventure, mystery, and romance. What’s bad about that?!

So although the jacket perhaps makes me look like a fifty-year-old grandma, I always feel like an eight-year-old girl. Always.

I have a feeling this is going to happen to me one day:

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