SHOW ME YOUR ID

Stopping by the local chain grocery store on my way home from work, I was waiting in the 10 Items Or Less Lane.  I had 4 items; 2 small roma tomatoes, a package of ground round, and a bottle of SIMPLY NAKED unoaked Pinot Grigio wine (Absolutely great wine....different taste without it being aged in oak barrels.  2 enthusiastic thumbs up from me!).  There was a man in front of me around 60 years of age wearing those blue jeans that are a strange sort of color.  The high waisted jeans are a sort of cross between jeans and dress pants worn mainly by older men.  He was one of those pant wearing men.  They were pulled up high, easily bridging half the distance from his natural waist to the bottom of his man breasts.  On top he wore some sort of strange vestage thing.  It wasn't a regular vest, but almost a man shrug if you know what I mean.  I found myself hypnotized by his aura, clothing and demeanor.  He was a bit annoying and I could tell the cashier wasn't amused by him at all.  I was amused though as I love to people watch.  He was a four star experience for me.  The line was building up quickly behind me; a lady who appeared to have had a hard life in just about every way shape and form, a gentleman behind her who probably did some sort of manual labor job, yet another woman and man behind them all holding just 10 items or less:)  I was next up.  I laid my four items, including the bottle of wine down.  Immediately, as is the law in my state (ID REQUIRED FOR ANYONE 40 AND UNDER), she asked for my ID.  I thought about all the jokes I could say to her but refrained as I knew she had probably heard them all.  The lady behind me caught my eye and I smiled at her.  The cashier punched in my ID in her system and handed me back my driver's license.  "I wouldn't have needed to ask for you ID but you look well under 40 years of age."  The lady behind me blurted out, "How old are you?"  By now all those in line are peering around each other to get a clearer glimpse of the interaction and conversation.  "Well," I said, "I'm actually 45."  The lady behind me, showing her hand explained, "Wow, I am 45 too.  I look old.  You don't look 45 at all.  I thought you were in your early 30's!"  I could feel the stares of the line behind me now scrutinizing my actual age to my looks and then comparing my looks to the woman's words.  I smiled both from uncomfortableness and a bit of validation.  Walking away the woman my age behind me in line said, "I can't believe we are the exact same age!"  I used to hate it when I was in my early 20's.  No one took me serious.  I looked like a kid.  Now, I love being thought of younger than my 45 years of age!  Maybe when I'm 70 I will look only 57.  Let's hope!