The first time someone called me ma’am was the first winter, right after we’d moved here.
Probably a little over two years ago. There I was, hovering over the meat selections in the deli. And in retrospect, I probably looked quite, um, matronly.
Some of you may be surprised that it took so long.
I mean, we are in the south, and I am nearing 40. {If you haven’t noticed yet, my age shall forever be “nearing 40” from here on out.}
Shhh. Never question it.
So maybe I should rephrase it. The first time someone called me ma’am and it stung a little, I was standing in the middle of Publix. Let me first clarify that I have this weird disease where I think everyone is the same age as me. I’m always shocked when they’re like, ten years younger. On the reverse side of this ageism disorder, I also think anyone my age looks well, way older.
So I have a skewed perspective.
I’ve always looked ‘young’ for my age. That’s a nice way of saying I was a perpetual late bloomer.
My parents told me it would pay off one day. So I did my time, wading through the awkward suffrages of high school. With my weird spiral perm phase and then my blue contacts phase {I already have blue eyes. WHAT was I thinking} And my awkward crushes phase. I waited patiently to “come into my prime” – “for it all to pay off”, through college and in awkward dating years…
And now someone in the grocery store called me ma’am?!
WHAT.
The first time I encountered the idea of a night serum, it was in this: I had to google night serum, and figured it was a fancy British term for rich people.
Then I realized at some point, you start doing it religiously. My grandmother used Oil of Olay nightly. She put on her night bonnet and applied the Oil DEY OLAY while I stood there at the counter and watched her artistry. My mom stepped it up a notch with Clinique. There was something about their techniques that were mesmerizing and I had no idea what all the fuss was about.
If I was taught anything as a child, it was to moisturize properly .
Cue me, almost-to-forty years later, smearing that fancy new essential oil on my wrinkles {Yarrow and Pom y’all–anyone else?}, using an odd concoction of both R+F {ALL THE CHEMICALS!} and Beauty Counter {THE CHEMICALS WILL KILL ME!} doing all the jade rolling I possibly can, and swearing at my younger self for not being more diligent about the sunscreen.
Cue me, crying into the mirror with exaggerated mascara runs. Aging is a beautiful thing and also, kinda funny. In the meanest ways absolutely possible.
My butt should be on a rewards system for the babies it birthed, not a sagging one. I’m going to opt for the comedic side on this one because apparently I’m entitled, and what can we do if not laugh at ourselves? I do see myself at 85, popping in for my painting class, then straight into yoga, with some glorious baubles in accessories to boot. A lot of wisdom on the side. But if I’m being honest, I’d kill to go back to 22 with the armory I have under my belt.
So, since I’m stuck in the middle, I totally get the mid life crisis thing. Throw in some unmet expectations fit for therapy, finally acknowledging that you’re going to have to die one day, and we’re all just one meltdown away from a permanent move to Tahiti.
Side note: Maybe that’s why the idea of vampires were invented? I believe the sparkly ones with werewolves were invented by a middle aged mom. So there’s always that.
But that was a tangent on aging. Because there I was in the middle of the grocery store like any other middle-aged woman and he called me ma’am. And I was side eyeing the poor little lad. Excuse me? Me? I looked around to make sure someone wasn’t behind me. It was almost more awkward than someone waving at you, and you wave back, and they have no idea who you are.
That happens to me a lot. I like waving.
I think I frowned at the kid. He couldn’t have been a day over 18. He was taught to be respectful to his elders by his parents, and here he was at his temp job before heading off to college, trying to help a ma’am in the deli section. I did the same thing when I was a teen.
Blink, and I’m standing there with my “May I please speak to your manager” haircut, totally offended.
When he asked the second time, “Can I help you, MA’AM?” bringing me out of total reconnaissance, it echoed through the store. The sound system came to a screeching halt, there was a crash nearby paired with a clean up on aisle 4, and doves cried.
That’s when I realized, I am having an identity crisis. I’m totally rocking the yoga pants, get excited to go to Target {double bonus if I get Starbucks} and discuss vacuum cleaners and mattress quality on the regular. Have you been to Nordstrom Rack?! At this point I’m practically sporting a full blown middle aged starter pack.
yay, efficient swiffer mops – they’re amazing – {and apparently, grocery store feet}!
With work, I’m stuck in the middle. I work, but at home. Therefore, I’m a perpetually confused stay at home person who works. And honestly, I would have made a darling trophy wife, so I’ll forever be torn about that life choice. Good job, universe.
As far as mom stages go, I’m in the middle, too. Officially removed from the survival of toddlerhood. So far removed, that you really can’t bring toddlers around me anymore. Like, they might have rabies or something. My children are age ranges 9.5 – 13 – the official sweet spot and, I’d love to freeze them here forever. The bonus to all our hard work up front, is that I have time to get my hair did and messy buns are pretty optional. The other day, I actually pedicured it up. I’ve done my time. I’ve suffered the sleepless nights and temper tantrums, and I’m still headed straight on into the unknown abyss that is attitudes and smart phones. I think we’ve got this. We’ll figure it out if we don’t.
So yeah. I’m a walking stereotype, living in this odd in-between of older and younger, wiser and naive-er. Coffee ’til wine. Grocery shopping, major hustle with the job and kids, and still trying to figure out how to use my Google calendar because technology. Perpetual confusion about wrinkles and drooping body parts, with the reality that it’s all setting in for the rest of my life. On-the-verge-of-40 is a tricky place to be.
But the irony is, I’m finally settling in to the part where I love myself.
Not in an I’m-so-great way. Not in a way that people will try to shame me for, because that’s what we do in our society. {More irony.} But in a constantly growing, evolving and accepting space. That space makes more room for the love of others. A peaceful one, if we allow it to be. A pretty great one, if I do say so myself.
I mean you have to at some point, right? Settle in, throw your hands up and enjoy the ride.
Or you’ll be miserable for the rest of your life.
Yoga pants are super comfy, btw. Thus the night serum.
I’ve earned my place among the ranks. I’ll take it.
So the next time someone calls me ma’am, I will accept my place, gracefully. And nod and curtsy as if a part of an old southern movie from before my time. And realize that it’s now or never.
I’m stuck in the middle... Of my prime.
Night serums, Lululemons and all.
Here’s to all the ma’ams.
May we forever be in our prime.
MomofTwoPreciousGirls says
This is funny! I just told my husband how every time I see people (friends on FB or actors) for the first time in a long time, Iām like āwow they have aged so muchā and yet I donāt feel that way about myself! He said āwelll, I used to think that about you too, but your gray hair is taking things over a bitā!!! Jerk!
Jenna says
This is refreshing and hilarious as always! My coworker just had to ask what I was snickering about when I waked in the door on my phone. So true and so perfect!
Erica M says
Girl!! You are an absolute hoot!! Seriously I’ve GOT to make it around the corner to come meet you and see your beautiful home! ā¤ļø Looks like your neighbors have done a great job on their’s too. Happy Rainy ā day. I’ll be glad when this decides to stop!!!
ashley @ the handmade home says
That would be awesome! ;}
Niki says
This spoke so much to my 38 year old, stuck in the middle heart! It stings to me too when I get called Ma’am. But I also use it on a daily basis to women older than me. Hypocrite much? LOL!
ashley @ the handmade home says
HAHA right?! Now it’s just downright insulting š
Carrie says
I think we could be best friends! lol
Rachel says
I love this so hard! This perfectly and hilariously describes where I am at. Learning to embrace it and please tell me more about these night serums! š
Kim says
Oh I feel every part of this! I’m closer to 40 than 30, kids from 6-14, and feeling very much in the middle. I’m not old, but I don’t feel young either. But the kids are easier now and I get to actually sleep through the night and have a drink with the hubby on occasion. Thanks for writing out my feelings. I appreciate it! š