Don't call me ma'am!

Tomorrow I will be 40. A bit hard to believe. Like many others, I've wondered in the past if I would actually reach this age. I'd had my share of challenges (chronic illnesses, tough choices). I've walked down a yellow carpeted aisle and said "I do." There's a short person who runs around the house and refers to me as "Mom." I have a mortgage and my car is not a hand-me-down. It appears I am now a full-fledged, card carrying adult.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like being an adult. Yes, there's extra responsibility and I can no longer fit into that slinky little skirt in the back of my closet (Who am I kidding? I could never fit into it), but, there's also a freedom, confidence and respect that comes with age. People can try to tell me what to do, how to think, what to feel...but I don't have to listen to them. I can stay up all night if I want to and have nothing but popcorn and wine for dinner - well, only when my son is at a sleepover, and preferably on the weekend when I don't have to get up for anything - can't function on 3 hours of sleep anymore.

I think I'm going to like being 40. I'd rather be 40 than 30 or 20. And yet...and yet...I was at a grocery store not too long ago, after I signed for my purchases, the check out lady said to me, "May I see your card ma'am?" That startled me. Ma'am? Ma'am! When did I become ma'am? I showed her my card and went home mildly perturbed. Why did it bother me to be called ma'am? Wasn't it a legitimate term for an adult female? And isn't this what I was?

Yes, but...A ma'am in my mind has always been someone's grandmother. She's an older woman wearing a long skirt, with a beginnings of a stoop in her shoulders and a few stray hairs on her chin. I sometimes find myself calling a few of those difficult women ma'am. You know, those whom you'd rather call "bitch"? As in, "If you'd only stop yelling ma'am, I'm sure we can get this figured out." Convenient, isn't it?

Men don't have a counterpart to this term. They're not designated into categories of young and old. Unfair? Completely! Perhaps we should devise a new title for the seasoned gentleman. Something to even out the playing field. "Old fart" maybe?

A few days after the "ma'am incident," I went to have the oil changed in my car. Once the job was done and my keys were returned to me, I set out to find my silver car in their vast parking lot full of silver cars. I must have looked perplexed because an employee approached me and asked, "Miss, can I help you find your car?" Miss!!! I was "Miss" once again. Granted he looked about 18 and I was old enough to be his mother, but it was nice to not have to answer politely to a word that to me always meant "old."

So what to do? How nice it would be if there was one title we could use for all women. "Ms" works beautifully. Unfortunately, it is used so rarely. Some day we'll have that word. I believe we're headed in that direction. Until then, I'm going enjoy being an adult, I'm going revel in my acquired wisdom, I'm going to trust my decisions and my instincts, I'm going to chase happiness and make the most of every day. But if you don't know my name and you see me out and about and want me to move out of your way or tell you the time or give you a bigger tip, please...don't call me ma'am!