Oh no, it is equal opportunity around here. I just have to look at the person’s age to figure which reference it is going to be.
I’m mostly told “smile!” and that “it can’t be that bad” because I look pretty somber when my face is at rest and don’t smile without good reason.
“Holy cow, I am humbled to stand before the sex god that is you.”
Well, they should.
I get that. I hate it. It often happens at work so I can’t be a smartass and say something like “what’s there to smile about, the world is going to crap!” or “my dog just died”.
I also get the “Wow, you’re short!”. Damn my parents* for raising me to be polite because I usually resist the urge to be a total smartass. The one I really hate is “how tall are you?” … may I ask how fat you are? How stupid you are? How tactless you are?
*and another damn to them for giving me their short genes.
I grew up blonde in a family of redheads, so I heard all the lovely comments they’d get about being carrot tops (my mother liked to respond that the tops of carrots are green) and lots of other ruder things, like “I bet you have a temper”. As I got older my hair naturally started turning redder and I got to experience some of those comments as well. One comment my mother never warned me about was “does the carpet match the curtains?”.
Apparently having red hair is striking, since I’ve had the conversation that goes
“You have such [insert adj] red hair!”
“Thanks”
About 10,000 times. My parents claimed to have taught both my brother and I to say “thank you” by eighteen months old primarily so we could respond to the hair comments 
People are also stunned when they figure out how old I am, since they’re usually off 5-7 years. “You’re not really that old!” But I’ve also had people think I was older because of my sarcastic/cynical personality, even in person. Go figure.
People don’t usually say anything. It does usually come up that I look young - I’ve been “accused” of being everything from 16 to 20 this year (I’m 28) but unless I walk up to someone and say “Hey guess how old I am!” it doesn’t really come up right off the bat.
Although when I wear any Kent State University gear (my alma mater) people ask when I graduate…
It’s usually something about my hair (which looks like this). Old ladies often touch it without permission and ask if they can have it.
People often think I’m up to five years younger than I am (I’ll be 21 on Friday; a lot of people guess 16 or so). This doesn’t happen so much at school because it’s assumed that I’m college-aged, but when I’m home I get asked by people (most recently the mother of one of my little sister’s friends) how high school is going. I’m sure, though, that by the time looking younger is an advantage, I’ll have started to look five years older than I am.
A lot of people think I’m miserable or angry all the time (my default facial expression isn’t exactly a smile), but most of them are tactful enough not to say anything.
“my goodness, you’re thin” or “what are you, like a size negative three?”
or, once they learn my name, they connect it to Isadora Duncan and tell me not to wear long scarves.
I do ALOT of catering into hospitals for drug reps (somehow I magically have to be at 4 different places between 11 and 12 tomarrow, that should be fun.
Getting the food into the room usually takes between 2 and 6 trips and may or may not involve doors, stairs, narrow hallways, elevators etc. Each trip I take, I usually count on 2 smartass comments (or more depending on the area). What bugs me is how everyone thinks there sooo original when infact, I hear the same ones over and over and over and over and over and over. I can usually ignore the person if I’m in a hallway and can just walk right past them, but that’s a bit more awkward when I’m stuck in an elevator with them, then I have to come up with some stupid comment back to them.
Anyways, the comments are:
Oh is that for me (by far the most common)
Here, I’ll take the top one
My car is right this way, just put it in the trunk
I’ll take that for you
Someone’s having a party
That looks good I’ll take one of those and one of those
As much as I’d like to smack every person who makes a comment I keep to myself and walk right past them. Keeping up appearences and all. Can’t look angry while I’m delivering food, most of the hospitals love seeing me walk in, and I’d like to keep it that way thank you.
#1: “You’re not from around here, are you?”
#2: Physically, there’s always a comment about the red hair. I get called “Red” a lot by people who barely know me.
I get called “flaco” (thin in spanish) a lot (I am 285 lbs with no paunch). Also “catire” (blond) as I have an euro look that is not that common where I lived.
“I’m not gay, but…you’re pretty good-looking.” Okay, so what’s that supposed to do for me?
Bovary. Duhh.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Shelley Long?”
Umm…no, never heard that one before. :rolleyes:
I can’t tell you how much I love hearing that, especially considering I don’t find Shelley Long to be particularly attractive; so in my mind I have just been insulted (even though the logical part of my brain knows that they didn’t mean it that way).
Me: Hi, I’m [first name] [last name].
Them: [last name] eh? Just like [insert one of two famous people who share my last name here]?
Yo, Adrienne!
Um, yeah, I haven’t heard that my whole life or anything. :rolleyes:
I have a labret stud, that’s the most frequent thing strangers comment about. If I’m in a good mood I’ll laugh it off and say something witty, but if you catch me on a bad day, it might go a little more like this:
“Hey, I think you got a little something extra on your lip there.” ::commentor gestures at my labret::
“Hey, I think you’re missing a little something up there.” ::I gesture at commentor’s bald head::
They often look confused and then slightly embarrassed. While it might make be look like a bit of a jackass, it feels sooo good.
That, and I share a last name with a famous fictional detective’s sidekick… and apparently everything I say is quite elementary. Or so I’m told.
I get this one. I don’t actually mind it when people say, “Oh, like the senator from Wisconsin!” or even, “Oh, like Edgar Bergen’s dummy!”… neither is very original or entertaining, but they don’t bother me much because the name is the same. The one that bugs me - and I get it a LOT - is, “Oh, like Paul from the Beatles!”
Er, spin again, Sparky. That’s not his name.
That’s the worst. I don’t get that (I’m not that butch, especially when seen from the front) but I get called sir by certain people.
The only plus side is when the panhandlers or people wanting to beg a smoke realize their mistake, they get this fearful look in their eye and disappear.