I'm with the band.

I'm short. I get it.

Yesterday, I was recruited into being a tour guide for a group of high school students. My task was simply to lead them from one building to the next in a timely fashion.

When my group made its way to me, I was immediately struck by the fact that I was much shorter than every single person in the group, including the only girl.

However, this was not brand new information and I wasn't bothered.

As I began herding them (there's no other word to use with ten 16 year olds) from one place to the next, I started feeling pretty cool.

I was older and more mature and wordly, but still close enough to them in age that I wasn't considered out of touch.

They were asking me questions about graduating, college, getting a job, traveling- you know, because I'm so interesting.

Near the end of the day, we were taking a tour of a company that required us to be in lab coats and protective eyewear. The lab coat came down to my knees while barely skimming the hips of the others.

I was standing near the back to let my group have the first crack at what was being shown when the presenter stopped, looked directly at me and said, "Let's let the shorter ones come to the front so they can see."

It's cute that she implied there to be more than one of us.

I smiled politely and said, "That's okay. I'm fine back here," but darned if the woman didn't keep motioning for me to move up. In an effort to compromise, I took a step forward. That's all she was going to get out of me.

Later, we had moved to a different part of the building and I was, once again, positioned near the back to stay out of the way. Another woman crouched down, placed her hands on my shoulders and asked with obvious concern, "Are you sure you can see?"

I sighed and insisted that I was fine.

When the tour was over and we were removing our lab coats, the gentleman who had been showing us around said, "Where's your tour guide?"

My group, looking confused, all pointed to me.

The woman from before said with a laugh, "Oh! I thought you were a high schooler!"

All my coolness and refinement were sucked out of the room into the Shop Vac that was that woman's mouth. Thanks a lot, lady.

Mind you, I am not complaining about the fact that I look young. I know that in a few years, I'm really going to like that about myself.

However, as one of my biggest pet peeves is being talked down to, the youthful vibe I seem to give off does not serve me well.

I can't blame people for assuming I'm younger than I am, and again, it's not the worst thing to deal with.

But don't you dare pat me on the head.

Seriousously, I will end you.