I recently attended a wedding in Colombia and had my hair blown straight for the occasion. In broken Spanish, I managed to express that I wanted the ends to curve inward, but my successful communication of this request was met by disbelieving eyes and a certain frown.
But that will make you look too serious – that’s how old women get their hair done! protested the hairdresser.
But I am a serious person, I countered. Check out my glasses…(They scream librarian).
All the more reason for the hair to curve outward. It’s young and fun, the hairdresser said with decisive finality.
I shrugged my shoulders ok — I didn’t really mind either way. But I did start wondering about my seriousness.
When I was 23 and brand new to my first serious job, everyone had me pegged at 28, 29, 30. Which I suppose has its benefits if you’re trying to give the impression that you know what you’re doing! But I began to wonder if the 5+ years had to do with the onset of premature wrinkling. I was assured not. It’s just that you’re so serious and mature. Ugh for fun. But great for work.
Now that I’m much closer to 28 than 23, and have re-embraced roller coasters, dancing in the gush of a burst fire hydrant at 4am and trying scary things like horseback riding for the first time without much guidance (I was thrown off but have not been deterred from getting back on)…no one’s telling me I look like 21,22,23 
My mother tells me I was a serious child. Very responsible, thoughtful, informative, exacting. But she also tells me I had a happy go lucky joie de vivre. The two descriptions don’t seem to go hand in hand, which works out ok, as I’m a gemini and expected to have opposing personality traits.
On this front, I haven’t changed much. Infinitely serious person. With a very playful streak. But if anything, I’ve become less serious and exacting with time, age, infinite wisdom. Does that mean my inner child’s the serious one?!
