I realized the other day that I am at a stage in my life worse than the dreaded Tweens. This moment of realization came precisely at the moment when a woman just a few years older than me called me “girl”. I wasn’t sure whether I should be offended or if I should take it as a compliment. I chose the latter after cringing at the thought of my 19 year old employee calling me “ma’am” just a couple days prior to this incident.
I must say that while I think of myself as young enough to
never, EVER be called “ma’am”, I feel much too old to be referred to as
“girl”. While my nightly routine
consists of two Advil and some eye cream, I’ll admit it-I still buy my jeans in
the Juniors section of the department store.
There’s definitely no denying the fact that this stage of my life feels
almost as awkward as my adolescent years.
I mean, what exactly is an under-30, over-25 year old woman
considered? I’ve been thinking about
this for nearly five days now, and I still have no idea.
Even the mirror doesn’t really clearly define the
answer. I keep searching for tell-tale
signs of new wrinkles, hoping this would determine why someone who isn’t even a
full nine years younger than me would call me “ma’am”…nothing yet. On the flip side, I consider the fact that
I’m often referred to as “girl” or “kid” could have to do with the fact that I
usually wear my hair pulled back and forego makeup. But surely, I must look older with no makeup
on. I even mentioned my paranoia with
being called any of the aforementioned words to my boyfriend. All I received in the form of feedback from
him was a blank stare and a headshake.
So it looks like I’m stuck in this transitional phase for at
least another year or two. Maybe then I’ll
be confident enough to rock Mom Jeans a ‘la Jessica Simpson to clarify my
age. Until then…
Not quite a girl, not yet a woman,
Freeway Fairington
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