The tipping point has arrived.

I'm doomed to always look younger than I am. Everyone on both sides of my family looks youthful. My 90-year-old grandfather could easily pass for 60-something. My parents generally look out of place with their age-peers; Dad shocked a number of people with his recent milestone birthday. Some years ago, he was mistaken for his little brother's twin. He's 11 years older. And my uncle himself, yes, also looks young for his age. So looking younger than I really am is at least as much a part of my genetic inheritance as a vulnerability to depression.

Given our culture's celebration of youth, most people would not consider this a liability. But I have long found it annoying. Like the time I went for a haircut and told the stylist that I wanted to look older, and she told me I would feel different once I passed 21.

I was 23 at the time.

People have been telling me for years that I would eventually appreciate this phenomenon. And I would agree, thinking, sure; when I'm 50. But that's precious little consolation in the meantime.

I'm not 50 yet, but I've fallen victim of our culture's idealization of youth.

For the first time in my life, someone has taken me for being younger than I am, and it made me feel really good.

Good enough, in fact, that I wound up spending more than I usually would for a beauty product I didn't need offered for sale by the flatterer.

It wasn't until I was halfway back to my car that it occurred to me, I've been had, haven't I?

It makes me feel somewhat better about my uncharacteristic lapse in sales resistance to know that I am not alone in having found this particular sales pitch compeling.