Clothes Make The Boy

So this weekend, I went shopping for some essentials I’ll be needing in CubaNation with Beth at Square One. We went to the Bay with and went up to the cash to pay for some shorts. One of the ones I wanted didn’t have a price tag on it, so I offered to go look for a comparable pair. While I was gone, my sister said “I should’ve went instead of my brother” since I was taking a long time. The cashier laughed and said “Your brother? I thought that was your boyfriend” which I find amusing. Beth and I, seem to get that a lot.
Anyways, when I return to the counter, he asks what school I go to. “I don’t go to school no more.” I replied.
“So you work?” he asks.
“Yup.”
“How old are you?”
“How old do I look?” I ask back.
“I’d say 19 or 20”
I laugh and say “Do I look older than her?” motioning to my sister.
He asks Beth “How old are you?”
“21”
To me he says “Yeah.”
I slap the counter and say “That’s right!” while my sister shakes her head in disapproval… not for her looking “older” than me, but of my ghettoness in finding such great pleasure in it.
Our theory, is that it has to be the blue and white polo shirt I was wearing. It has a very “13 year old” feel to it.

Unfortunately having a “19 year old” look didn’t help me out in the swim suit department. One of the shorts I bought was sized “Large”… but it was most likely “Large” in boys sizes. When I (barely) put it on, it smushed my junk, and the crack of my ass could be seen. Ah well, my sister has a new pair of shorts at least.