by Chrysa Smith

Remember back to your twenties? Right out of college with a credit card and check book in hand, you were finally an adult. And as you engaged in various retail, business or social transactions, you were suddenly shocked when, one day, a clerk, nurse, bus driver or waitress didn’t call you Mary, Sue or Peggy but Miss. Hmm. Were they talking to me? I guess it’s proper etiquette for the real world. So a quick nod and you were on your way.

Time went by, you met the perfect guy and became Mrs. It felt pretty nice the first few times you were called by his surname—-proud, happy to become a wife (and finally have a short, pronounceable name for a change–well, at least for me)—happy to begin a new family life. Hmm. Mrs….they were talking to me; how nice. A quick nod, happy sigh and you were on your way.

Soon enough, the family began to grow and you became Mom. Hmm. I really am a mom—how nice, how fulfilling, how lovely—-at least until those certain days, when you heard your latest title called more in 24 hours than you ever thought possible. But with tiny hugs, the funniest remarks and a fridge full of artwork, a glow washes over you and you’re on your way.

Somewhere along the way, you found yourself back to the beginning—credit card in hand, waiting for a retail, dining or medical transaction and you heard the word M’am. Hmm. Excuse me, are you talking to me? When exactly did I cross the line from Miss to M’am? I clearly don’t remember a ceremony, certificate, graduation; yet I get it all the time now. I now turn a deaf ear and I’m on my way.

Trying to get ahead of the cycle, I now see people not much older than me, referred to as older. And some of my friends, who I thought to be a bit older, are teetering more on elderly. Yikes! I don’t like the images that dredges up for me. So if I can’t stop aging, or keep others from it as well, I’m at least going to do all my friends a favor and begin introducing them as The Lovely……The Beautiful…….The Magnificent, pour them a glass a wine and remember the advice of my Great Aunts—forget about it and have another piece of candy—or a healthy piece of fruit and something nice to go along with it.