Since moving to Canada, I have repeatedly had my birthdate mistaken in official paperwork. My study permit (
that was a long headache to fix), my health insurance, my hospital registration. When I ask to have this fixed
in person, where they can
see me, they are always very apologetic and astonished -- no, I do not look like someone in my thirties. Or forties. Or fifties. (In the same vein of errors, no, I am not male. Yes, they actually made that mistake.)
I hope that one day, when I grow up and enter my thirties, forties, and fifties, I will be taller. But not male. I am quite comfortable in this gender, thank you very much.
This post's theme quote comes from Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket), commenting on Amazon's
Kindle:
It's a sad day when... you have to say to yourself, I can't leave this William Maxwell novel on the street, and yet I also want this goat cheese.
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