Don't Call Me Ma'am

I know in some parts of the world, this word is used as a sign of respect.  Maybe it's because I'm a curmudgeonly northerner who doesn't understand life below the Mason Dixon line, but "Ma'am" might be the most offensive word in the English language. And since when did people start tossing it in my very youthful direction?

A few years ago the word "Ma'am" was very rarely directed at me.  Then something shifted.  People started using it more, I stopped getting carded, and my students stopped assuming I knew what a Wiz Khalifa was.  Then it hit me. Holy hell, I'm middle aged!  

The past decade has flown by so quickly, that I sometimes still write 2008 on my checks.  Yes, that's right, I'm five years behind.  Yet, here I stand.  It really is 2013, I really do own a house which I share with a husband and, soon to be, two children!  My children.  When did I become somebody's mother?  I keep finding white hairs, the weight doesn't come off as easy as it used to, and I really do need to use the facial creams those bitchy twenty-somethings with flawless skin hawk in the commercials.  And yes, youngsters now address me as "ma'am."    

The problem is that I don't feel like a grownup.  Most of the time I don't know what the hell I'm doing.  I still need to call my mom for laundry advice.  I've never balanced a check book in my life.  I still find myself giggling, "That's what she said," in my head throughout episodes of Downton Abbey.

So I think what old people say about being young at heart is probably true.  Maybe nobody ever feels like a grownup.

All bag boys, drive-thru attendants, theater ushers, and children trying to sell me cookies, take note:  On the outside, I may be a thirty-two-year-old pregnant lady toting a toddler while wearing clogs and a coat from LL Bean.  Yet, do not let my ill-fitting jeans and Toyota Corolla fool you.  On the inside, I am still a fabulous twenty-five, and you should treat me the same way as you'd treat one of those young ladies sporting Uggs and a lack of legitimate pants.  

But yes, I would like to buy all the cookies, and I would like you to carry my groceries to the car, young man.