The M word

After my whole last post about not having done anything but yoga for the last few weeks, I decided it was time to revisit my Pasadena gym for a good old-fashioned after-work run and crunch session. I was feeling really good about myself on the treadmill - my time off had made my 3 mile run a little challenging, but not overly so - and on the mat where I felt long and lean doing my post-run stretches. I was even shamelessly admiring my quads as I came upward with each new crunch. After years of trying to "battle the bulge" the only thing big about me that day was my head.

That all changed as I walked off the mat, past a guy I see regularly, but don't know. He's attractive enough, but not hot, and clearly older than me. "Excuse me," I said, walking by without any thought. Until he gave me pause with his response, "Oh, excuse me, Ma'am."

I'm sorry, "Ma'am"? Do I look 80? Or even 40 - which is about the age I mentally put this guy? In my mind, "Ma'am" is reserved for crotchety school teachers, old women with walkers, or, at the very least, someone no less than my mother's age. And I'm pretty sure even my mom wouldn't answer to "Ma'am."

I almost stopped in my tracks and asked if I'd heard him right. Considered telling him that "Ma'am" was one of the worst names you could call someone, especially someone like me. Shouldn't there be a rule about this, akin to asking a woman when she is due? That, unless you have some sort of confirmation as to her status, it's better to just keep your mouth shut?

But then, this guy doesn't know me, and challenging his etiquette by highlighting my own insecurities probably isn't the best way to make an introduction. So, instead, I tucked my tail between my long, lean legs, and went home to nurse my wounded ego.