Never Old Enough

What's the saying? "Never Too Old?" Well, not in my case. In my case, it's "Never Old Enough." And just in case I get off topic and start ranting and raving, which I'm prone to do on this topic, the moral of this story is "Do not ask me how old I am. No matter how young I appear, it just makes you rude."

I've been dealing with a complex about my age since about 2nd grade. I skipped first grade, so from 2nd grade on I was a year younger than my "peers." I was labeled as the youngest one in the class, and I wasn't old enough for certain things at the same time my classmates were, like Driver's Ed.
Then, I had to deal with years of rude people who think it's perfectly acceptable to comment on my age in relation to my children. As a result, "Wow, you were young!" or "How old were you?" make me want to reach out and strangle someone. I'm perfectly aware of how old I am and was, I don't need everyone else to remind me.
At least they stopped asking, and just when that problem seemed to be going away, (which I took as a sign of my ever increasing wrinkles and gray hair), a new age issue has cropped up. What could I possibly still not be old enough for, you ask? Why, quilting, of course! Now, it seems, I am not "old enough" to own a quilt shop. Strangers everywhere have taken my business ownership as an opportunity to once again utter that fateful question, "How old are you?"
Until now, I've always been truthful. Age matters so little to me these days that I often have to stop and think before I answer. But I do answer, because any comment I can come up with would just be rude. And I am not the rude party in this exchange! God help the next person to come up and ask me how old I am. They'd better hope I woke up on the right side of the bed that morning, or they should fear for their life. And if I did wake up on the right side of the bed? I'm going to tell them I'm 34 or 43 or 38 and let them figure it out for themselves! (I'm 26, in case you're wondering. There, now you don't have to be rude.)