Ma'am I Am

   In my mid 30’s I started picking up on a word that people would use to address me, and I didn’t like it much.  I felt as if I was being judged for the way I looked…but exactly HOW did I look to others?  
   As much as I may workout, exercise, weight train, bike ride, or run, I’ve seen first-hand that Mother Nature can be a shoddy seamstress.  A lot of parts that were once very well tucked away have started  flopping to a lazy hem.

    “Grandmothers aren’t supposed to look good in bikinis dear,”  my mother in law used to tell me when I’d mope about feeling like the older mom in a sea of twenty something siren mommies. 

      My biggest fear of becoming old is not so much the aging process itself; it’s the fear of not ‘being cool.’

   Just the other day, I went to LabCorp to have some bloods drawn.  I didn’t feel a painful prick until I was headed out of the room and the smiley, plump technician in rainbow scrubs uttered the words, “Have a nice day ma’am.”

   OUCH! I caught a glimpse of myself in the tinny paper towel dispenser beside me.  No receding gum line, yes to a few sun spots.

   She COULDN’T have meant ME.

   I cricked my neck, slowly turning my head back towards her, making a collective effort not to go Jersey Shore or Brooklynese at Miss Happy Rainbows.

   “It’s WAY too early in the day to start off with ma’am.”  I smile a bit too wide.

   She doesn’t know how old I am, and even if she did-what bearing would that have on how she addressed me?

   Headed home, and in distress, I find myself looking in the rear view mirror-not for traffic’s sake, but for my own.  No grey strands, no dark circles, no major catastrophes.  I do not pay attention to Boniva commercials nor do I suffer from premenopausal hot flashes.  Maybe it’s time to invest in a more concentrated anti-aging moisturizer.

   I can deal with being called lady, miss, even bitch.  I have a friend who says the spokesperson for Frank’s Red Hot Sauce reminds her of me.  HOW could that be?  She’s at LEAST 40 years my senior.

   In search of ma'amswers, I looked for some online references yet still found myself confused by the definitions; so I’ve come up with a set of my own to be used for future reference.  The following is MY LIST of do’s and don’ts for Ma’am’s.

DO NOTS

1. I do not over wear flowery perfume
2. I do not say, "Yoohoo, young man..." when I want someone's attention.
3. I do not give piano lessons.
4. I do not wear a bathing cap to swim.
5. I don't wear my hair in a bouffant.
6. I don't have, own, or feed ANY cats.
7. I don't wear coral lipstick; neither on my lips or my two front teeth.
8. I do not confuse grey strands of hair for highlights.
9. I do not use the expressions:  Oh My!  Goodness Gracious!  or Glory Be!
10. I do not bake pies.
11. I do not resemble 'Aunt Bea' (although I do know who she is).
12. I do not understand the meaning behind middle fingers and sticking the tongue out in photos.
13. I do not 'air kiss' people hello.

 DO'S 

          

1. I do know who Snooki and J Woww are-sadly.
2. I do wear shorts above the knee and mini-skirts.
3. I do use Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest.....
4. I shop SELECTIVELY in Forever 21.
5. I will reveal my age before EVER hinting at my weight.
6. I do know the importance of diet and exercise.
7. I do use Frank’s Hot Sauce-I DO NOT look like the poster girl.
8. I admit imperfection.
9. I do believe that cellulite is like porn, if you find it offensive-don't look.
10. I eat frozen yogurt fully aware that it’s twice as fattening as ice cream (after all the added toppings).
11. I know the difference between trying to look 20 again versus looking the best for my age.
12. I can still do cannonballs off the diving board.
13. I am familiar with the terms: Botox, Restylane, Juvederm, ReJuvederm, but don’t necessarily opt for them.
14. I don't count calories; I count down how many days/weeks till I need to fit into the LBD.
15. I do think the world was much less complicated when I was a kid.
16. I do know that to a man, silence can be more piercing than the loudest shriek.
             
             As I continue to embrace the workings of my inner ma’am, I learn that being me is not my age, or what anyone else calls me.  It is MY attitude, and outlook.   I need to take caution on the titles I assume people put on me-almost as much as the one’s I use to define myself.  
    
    

    

    Age enhanced self portrait.  Not bad, eh?