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Ma’am: I Never Imagined I’d Feel This Young at This Age
Not long ago, a young woman on a flight referred to me as “Ma’am.” I was on my way to Chicago for a reunion with a fantastic group of women who fondly call themselves the “Grown-Ups,” a term we adopted years ago when we were navigating our graduate studies. Back then, I felt more like a grown-up than they did, even though I was only in my 30s.
But now, this fresh-faced blonde with her smooth skin thought I qualified for the title. While I’ve been called “Ma’am” before, her casual yet respectful tone struck me differently. As she squeezed past me to her window seat, it felt like she was treating me as someone who might be a bit fragile—like I belonged to a different generation, a different world.
I shared my amusement about the incident with my Grown-Up friends during that weekend reunion, posting about it on social media. “Can you believe I was called ‘Ma’am’?” I laughed. Yet, the more I thought about it, the more my stomach knotted. Staring into the mirror, I noticed the hollows and lines in my face—this wasn’t the youthful image I held in my mind. I still felt like I was in my thirties, learning how to navigate life.
Back in grad school, I often felt old, surrounded by classmates who were just stepping into their careers, while I was pursuing a dream I’d only recently dared to embrace after leaving my past life as an entertainment lawyer behind.
The Grown-Ups formed during my second year. We were all seasoned, having previously worked in various fields like advertising, journalism, and academia. We bonded over our past experiences and ambitions, even as I often drifted between Iowa City and Los Angeles, where my fiancé lived. Despite my status as a bit of an outsider, these women made me feel more at home than anyone else in the program.
Years later, in Chicago, we had aged into our titles. Our hair had turned gray, and our faces bore the marks of time. Yet, we had also evolved into writers and mothers, wives and teachers, navigating the complexities of life with a deeper understanding. The sparkle of each woman’s spirit remained, undiminished.
I chuckled at the “Ma’am” moment, but it still haunted me on restless nights. I’m not longing for my youth—I appreciate being older and more confident. Yet, the insecurities of my younger self linger: the fear of inadequacy, the desire for parental approval, and the need for guidance when I feel lost.
It’s a strange realization to feel so young in spirit while facing the realities of aging. The echoes of my past selves—the little girl who sought perfection to quell family discord, the young adult who couldn’t escape her own high expectations, the woman who bravely pursued her passion—are all still part of me. And now, my son comforts me during my anxious moments, suggesting we “start the day over.”
During that Chicago weekend, we Grown-Ups exchanged stories about parenting, love, and our careers, but we also enjoyed moments of laughter and joy, just like we did when we were younger. We even swooned over a movie together, reminiscing about the old days while discussing the fine line between fun and the messages we want to convey to our kids.
The complexities of youth and age coexist within us, and we must accept that they shape who we are. It’s a gift of growing older: embracing the totality of our experiences, making us who we are today.
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In summary, this reflective piece explores the feelings of aging and the juxtaposition of youth and maturity, emphasizing the importance of embracing all aspects of our lives as we grow older while maintaining a youthful spirit.