Nothing about me is memorable. I was quite old when I began to realize this. Thirty at least. It’s why waiters in restaurants don’t hear my order although everyone else at the table remembers my requests. Sometimes I think I’m invisible. It used to bother me. I tried to make myself more noticeable. New hair styles. Vivid eye shadows. I wanted to make a statement, but it didn’t work. Finally I resigned myself to the fact that I am imminently forgettable. I blend in with the wallpaper. Big deal.