The grocery store was ridiculously busy last night and in my haste to gather up my bags, I forgot to sign the receipt. As I began to walk through the automatic doors, I faintly heard a girl’s voice behind me.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Excuse me, Ma’am!”

I didn’t register she was calling me. Not at all. Not until she was right behind my shoulder and practically screamed MA’AM one more time, as if my old lady ears didn’t hear her.

I HEARD her, I just didn’t realize that I was getting ma’am-ed.

Why not Miss? I mean, shouldn’t I get at least another few years before I have to wear the ma’am hat? Just a few? If we’re getting technical, I can still get away without a bra if I wanted to (not that I want to, but if the situation were to arise I’m pretty sure I’d still be able to pull off the youthful perkiness no problem) so shouldn’t that factor in somewhere?

I guess 26 is the new 60.

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