There is an alarming rumor going around our village. The new pastor is either married to a teenager, or he has somehow managed to have a teenage daughter, even though he is only 30.
Yep. That would be me, the teenage pastor’s wife. Except for one little detail. I am 25. Still young, but certainly not a teenager. I think that it may have to do with the ponytail, my semi-permanent ’do. All of the sweet ladies in my Zumba class were utterly shocked to discover that I haven’t just graduated from high school, but I am married with two children, both born in the joyful confines of marital bliss.
I’m sure that I will appreciate this later, but I really don’t want people to assume that I’m 14 years old, and I already have a four year-old daughter. That doesn’t really send the message that I’m going for.
Oh well! I guess that there are worse things than looking ten years younger than you are.
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