A Tangled Web Woven From A Lie

I lied about my age when I went to a concert last year. It was for a band that has been around since the 80s, and they were playing at a venue that only allows attendees over thirty-five. At forty-two, I wasn't too concerned about getting in; however, to be certain, I provided them with my birth certificate and claimed to be just shy of the minimum age. The lie felt unnecessary once inside, but it was a strange mix of pride and shame every time they asked for ID during intermission. I wanted the experience without the judgment of looking like an over-the-hill groupie. Now, whenever I see pictures from that night, I feel conflicted about the authenticity of my attendance.