A month or so in, one of my female bosses called me to her office to tell me specifically to stop looking like an intern. She suggested I cut my hair. I felt it was more mean-girl than mentor but decided she had a point. I cut my hair. I continued building a closet of professional clothes and remained even-keeled. I wasn’t happy, but I had a job to do and was doing it well. I continued about my business.
I’ve put on a few more years since, but basically look the same. It would be hard not to look young being 5’2”, round-faced and non-committal when it comes to heels. At a recent soccer game, in a T-shirt and light makeup, I was pegged at 17. When I put on my big-girl pants and eyeliner, I pass more vaguely as a 20-something -- not necessarily a term of endearment. As a group we’ve been called spoiled, entitled, stuck, lost, emerging, narcissistic and addicted to tech.