My story is somewhere between my teen years and recently. I was nineteen and picking my parents up from a happy hour my mom was hosting (she used to work at a radio station) at a local hotel. I was waiting in the lobby outside the bar for them to come out when one of the happy hour patrons came out and started talking to me. Now, I keep my hair short and I tend to wear jeans and a t-shirt, which, admittedly, is not the most flattering for a petite frame like mine. This guy offered me a drink and I told him no, because I was nineteen. He told me good for you, and kept talking for a bit, which is when I started to have doubts about his perception. My parents come out and this guys is still talking. Eventually, he says something (I don't remember what, exactly) about "Your young man," and my parents just look at each other. Then Mom goes, "Um, that's my daughter." And all the guy can think of to say is "Whoa, I'm sorry; I totally didn't notice the tits!" It's been my amusing anecdote ever since. (Though it makes me wonder about the guy, because if I were a boy, there's no way I'd have passed for nineteen at the time and probably still wouldn't, even five years later.)