WARNING: I’m about to embark on a rant I’ve made before.

Girl at first church perched on the table in the red sweatshirt, I’m older than you. I am not one of “your junior highers” which you would know if you decided to pay attention to who was actually in “your” youth group. As the ignored girl in most groups, I take personal offense that you don’t know those that come well enough to recognize that not only am I not 13 or 14, I have not been a member of the NFC youth group for a good long time, 8 years to be exact. Now, had you guessed that I was 16 or 17, I would have been slightly less offended, although still disturbed that you don’t actually pay attention to who shows up on Wednesday nights. You see, I know I look younger than my 25 years, but I do not look like I belong in a middle school. I’m sorry, I just don’t. Sure I’m short, but that’s about it. Not only do I look older than your typical 7th grader, I act differently. I watched the youth group kids post youth group, they are crazy little boogers. They run around, they tackle each other, they create general mayhem. What do they not do? They do not stand quietly in the corner waiting patiently for their ride.  Now, had you stopped yourself after I told you that I had not, in fact, called my parents because that would be silly considering I haven’t needed a ride from them for 10 years and they would be incapable of picking me up since they live in another state, I may not have been so upset, but you didn’t. You decided to keep questioning my age and you decided to insist that I looked like one of the kids in your junior high. Jeers to you. Learn some tact and when to keep your mouth closed.

The End.