ID and ego

The day of reckoning is here.  Just got back from the liquor store.  After plopping down three bottles of vodka at the checkout counter, I realized that I had left my ID in a different purse.  I was just beginning to brace myself to receive a dirty glare from the clerk for having to reshelve all my attempted purchases, when he grunted the price at me and held out his hand lazily for payment.

I realized in horror that he had deemed it unnecessary to verify my age.  So I handed over my credit card, sloppily signed my receipt, grabbed my brown paper bag filled with bottles and sprinted out the door, leaving the hapless clerk to resume his furtive masturbating or whatever other task in which he was embroiled before our transaction.

No carding!  Have I really ushered in that era at age 29?  Just two days ago I was feeling cocky, having been asked by my ophthalmologist's ditzy receptionist if I was still covered my parents's insurance plan.  But today in the safety of my car I checked my reflection in the rear-view mirror.  Lank hair plastered to one side of my face from where I'd slept on it.  Dull, lifeless skin.  Frown lines!  My red and glazed-over eyes would have widened in terror if they weren't so swollen from allergies.

I've been spoiled in the youthfulness department for a good long time by my Asian-ness.  While my white-chick colleagues long ago succumbed to crows feet and cellulite, I had escaped relatively unscathed thanks to my protective cloak of thick minority collagen.  No junk in the trunk is a small price to pay for no Botox on the mug.

But today I was reminded that the Asian woman's collapse into old age is different, more dramatic.  It resembles less the gradual wear and tear to a building and more a scheduled implosion like the demolition of Texas Stadium.  One night late into middle age, we go to bed still passing for a teen, then wake up the next day as a decrepit dragon lady.

I'm terrified, because apparently that day is upon me.  The four wheelchairs of the apocalypse have been sighted, and I'm done for.  If only I hadn't forgotten to bring in that vodka from the backseat of the car.