I've always wondered if being called "sir" hit men the same way suddenly being called "ma'am" hits women. I'd like to say that I've leaned in, but it still takes me by surprise sometimes!
Right? LOL … I should have been clearer though and added that this happened what now seems like a long time ago now for me. It was when it became obvious I started looking like someone who didn’t quite fit into bars anymore, because I looked at least 10 years older than the people I suddenly started realizing looked like kids to me. I started assuming I must have started to look creepy.
Then at the grocery store, when those same teens and young adults started calling me sir. It was, truth be told, like a cold shower. And that was before even midlife. We all went through it — that little reminder that we don’t look (relatively) young anymore even though we might still feel it.
And then midlife hits and now I find myself writing an essay called This Is 60. What’s that expression again? Time flies? 😉
But honestly, somewhere along the way the “sir” stopped feeling like an insult and started feeling more like a strange kind of promotion.
Not older exactly. Just kind of … further down the road.
I've always wondered if being called "sir" hit men the same way suddenly being called "ma'am" hits women. I'd like to say that I've leaned in, but it still takes me by surprise sometimes!
Right? LOL … I should have been clearer though and added that this happened what now seems like a long time ago now for me. It was when it became obvious I started looking like someone who didn’t quite fit into bars anymore, because I looked at least 10 years older than the people I suddenly started realizing looked like kids to me. I started assuming I must have started to look creepy.
Then at the grocery store, when those same teens and young adults started calling me sir. It was, truth be told, like a cold shower. And that was before even midlife. We all went through it — that little reminder that we don’t look (relatively) young anymore even though we might still feel it.
And then midlife hits and now I find myself writing an essay called This Is 60. What’s that expression again? Time flies? 😉
But honestly, somewhere along the way the “sir” stopped feeling like an insult and started feeling more like a strange kind of promotion.
Not older exactly. Just kind of … further down the road.