When I was 16 my dad took me on a trip to England and Greece. The trip was lovely. What wasn't lovely to 16 year old me was a comment we received one evening in Santorini.
We're sitting outside our hotel and there's a young couple next to us enjoying a glass of wine. The moon was huge and we were all admiring it when the young couple asked us if we were on our honeymoon.
Blegh!
We said no, I was his daughter. And that was the end of that conversation.
Today, as I'm writing this title, I realize it's been ten years since this incident. And by happenstance, today I was recognized as a relation to my father based on my surname.
Two brothers in their 60's were in my office for the estate of their mother. We finished the formalities of the appointment and we're ready to say goodbye, when I informed them I'd be working from home in the new year so they wouldn't be able to use my contact details. I told them I lived in town and the one brother asked for my last name.
He said, "oh as in (my father's name)"
I said yes that he had the right family. And he turned to his brother and said, "oh, this is John's wife."
It was real awkward when I had to step in and say I was actually his daughter.
Either these people think my dad has mad game or I look like an old hag.
I guess when I'm 36 I'll look like I'm dead.
(Also, I know my sister will mention this to me after she reads this post, but I've also been mistaken for her mother...so I guess that makes me my own mother)
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