I was at a college campus the other day as a work representative, participating in an internship/recruiting event. I’d never been on that campus before, so after parking, I began hoofing it into the main campus area to try and find my building. As I am there to make a presentation, I’m dressed in sky-high black patent stilettos, army green cuffed wide-leg trousers, a sleeveless black turtleneck, and a black and silver Gucci belt. Thus, on a college campus, suffice it to say I did not blend.
Having not the slightest idea which was I was going, I stopped the first ubiquitous loungewear-attired, blonde, perky co-ed I saw to ask for directions. So I say to her, “Excuse me, can you tell me where Trexler is?” And she replies, in her perky sorority girl voice, “Yes ma’am, it’s…”
Oh. My. God.
I almost couldn’t hear the directions because I couldn’t get past the fact that I was just ma’amed! You know what that means?!!! This girl is acknowledging me—respectfully, Southern-style—as her elder!
Holy freakin‘ ****! In my head, I still feel very young. Body wise, young. Appearance, well apparently I look way the hell older than I feel! You know, I was beginning to think something was wrong when I’m watching TV, and am finding many of the dad characters appealing. You know you’ve hit the point of no return when that happens.
Alright. So I’ll never be mistaken for a college co-ed again. I’ll begrudgingly admit that that’s fine. But what can I pacify my ego with? Hmm. OK, how about this: a special friend recently told me the appeal of being where I am in life at this moment. He said to me, very admiringly, you’re a woman. I suppose that’s not half-bad. Because according to men, when they think woman, they’re thinking Demi Moore. Catherine Zeta-Jones. Diane Lane. And I think we can all agree, that is a fantastic group to be lumped into. You’re at that point where you’re looking good, you’re confident, have your shit together, and they know it. So I suppose I can accept that. But damn, can we not just go ahead and stop the clock right here, when Botox really isn’t necessary yet, and I can still rock a mini and not look preposterous?
Yeah, I don’t think this aging this is going to be easy for me. At all.
