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"Once at a coffee shop, a woman in her mid-30s tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned around, she quickly apologized: \"Sorry, miss. I thought you were someone else.\"\"Sarah*?\" I asked. \"I'm Marissa.\"\"Oh, my goodness,\" she giggled. \"I thought I had the wrong person. You just look so...young!\"\"I get that a lot,\" I told her. At the time, I was interviewing Sarah for a story I was writing. I was 24, and it was my first week on the job as editor-in-chief of a regional women's magazine. Our awkward exchange was one of many I've experienced as a young woman in a big job. People expect a much older-looking person, not a short blonde girl who could pass for a college sorority sister.\n\tAdvertisement - Continue Reading Below\n\t\n\nI've always looked young for my age. When I was a freshman in college, people mistook me for 15. When I was 21, bouncers eyed my ID suspiciously. And when I was 22 and already a working journalist, a stranger asked, \"Which high school do you attend, sweetheart?\" Looking younger than your years is a boon when you're over 40 (or so I hear) but a bummer when you're a 25-year-old kid like me, especially a kid who landed a dream job and is trying to command some respect.\n\nBefore I started my career, being mistaken for someone younger was no big deal. But during my first job as a reporter, I quickly realized that looking \"too young\" could be a curse for me at work, one that would keep fueling my insecurities even when I landed a position of authority.In my first reporting job, I had an encounter that scarred me for years. An older woman I was meeting with about a story looked me up and down and squealed with amusement: \"Well, don't you look all of 12?\" Her voice dripped with condescension. It was hard enough being the lowest person on the totem pole in the office, but having my age and inexperience mocked left me with a chip on my shoulder. After that, I started overcompensating by assuming a persona that was aggressive, brash, and at times, really bitchy. I felt I needed to prove I was a competent working woman, not some 12-year-old shadowing the office for a day.Taking on that alpha-female facade backfired big-time. For one thing, a baby-faced 22-year-old in a matronly pantsuit looks more silly than professional. For another, my coworkers started disliking me. (I mean, I didn't even like myself.) So I apologized to the people I was awful to and went back to acting like me. During my next job, I started freelance writing on the side, and one day, I got a call from a former sales exec I knew who'd just been promoted to magazine publisher. I had been writing and editing for a magazine he produced, and he said he was looking for an editor-in-chief. \"Are you interested in the job?\" he asked.Yes, I was interested in the job! But my insecurities ran rampant. I'd met the publisher before, but I became convinced he was confusing me with someone else. Also, I was 24 and didn't know the first thing about running an entire magazine. The only magazine editor-in-chief I'd seen in action was Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada! Even so, I took a meeting with the publisher and his execs, and they were impressed with my portfolio. They were looking to make the magazine more youthful and expand its digital presence, and I just happened to be this young, plugged-in kid. I was offered the job.I thought my new position would give me instant confidence--that I would magically morph into someone older-seeming. In reality, the opposite happened. I felt like I was in the spotlight 24/7 because of the novelty of my big job and young age. I didn't have a mentor, so I found my way through trial and error--and lots of Google searching. At first, I constantly questioned if I was making the right decisions and whether I even deserved the job at all.Still, I had no choice but to adjust to the gig, so I figured out ways to look and sound the part of someone young but at the helm. I took my pencil skirts and button-downs to the tailor to make sure they fit properly--but didn't trade my colorful heels for boring black pumps. And I learned how to connect with writers my mom's age by finding common ground, often bringing up my knowledge of classic-rock music. Whenever I was mistaken for someone junior, I just sucked it up and moved forward.Soon, positive feedback from our publisher, readers, and friends began trickling in, and I realized I really was doing a good job. My small magazine from the Southeast captured readers all the way in San Francisco. Photographers and writers from around the country wanted to get involved. My self-doubt was slowly replaced with pride and confidence, and I finally understood that my insecurities about my age and looks were needless baggage that I was lugging around. Instead of seeing my title and youth as positive and unique, I'd been letting them make me feel inferior, childish, and undeserving. And I was none of those things.\n\tAdvertisement - Continue Reading Below\n\t\n\nI still look young, I still am young, and I still have to deal with rude comments. But a year after starting, I feel more at ease in my powerful job. Filling big shoes when you're still finding yourself isn't easy. I may not be Meryl Streep wearing her sky-high stilettos, but I'm managing to walk just fine in mine."^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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