My name is Sweetie

Yep, my name is Sweetie.  It didn't used to be, but I got old and people have changed my name.  They don't even ask me what my name is.  It is taken for granted.  They look at me and out of their mouth comes "Sweetie".

Except at the doctor's office where I am called by my first name, Johnie.  There I used to be Mrs.  Not any more.   I understand Congress has passed laws to protect my privacy.  I wish they wouldn't do that sort of thing.  I'll bet if I stripped necked in the mall, my full name would be printed in the newspaper in bold type in the middle of the front page.  Besides, someday there might be someone, who I would like for them to know my name.

But back to the subject.  Waiters, waitresses, salesmen, salesladies, grocery clerks, car wash people, you name it, where ever there are people that need to address me, I am called Sweetie.  Policemen - no, they just start right in asking for a driver's license.  At least that's what happened the last time I got stopped, thirty years ago.

I was complaining about this to my daughter the other day.  Told her that it irks me just a tad to always be addressed as Sweetie.  Why not call me Beautiful, Good Lookin', Cute. Well, now there's something I'll never be called.  I wasn't even cute when I was cute.   But people could call me somthing nice.  Just don't ever call me Maam.  That's not gonna fly, but daggers might.  My brother did that once - only once.

Suzanne got to thinkin' and had another take on why older women, (including me) are called Sweetie.  Her thought is that people won't say what they really would like to say.  "Don't get me wrong," she said, "but some  uh, uhmmm --- experienced women ( she swallowed hard and took a deep breath) can be rather trying at times, especially to service people, and what they would really like to tell them is that they are a pain in the a--"troturf, (I know that is spelled wrong, but I am trying to be nice - again.)   I have to do that a lot lately, try to be nice that is.

I have a question though.  Am I the only person that is fed up with people thinking I'm old, when I do not feel old at all?  I know I look it. ,my mirror says I do.  But looks can be deceiving.  My brain says I'm only  -  oh, maybe forty five, no more than fifty.  Then again, sometime, yeah, all of the time, when I stand up I  creek a little.

Well, that's life, and I intend to dance while I can still dance.  When someone calls me 'Sweetie', I'l look at them, give 'em a big smile and think you think I'm a pain in the but.  We'll just see about that.  Do what I want and I'll be a Sweetie. Don't, and I can sure be a PITA.