I can remember the exact place and time of day I was first addressed as "Ma'am". I was at a gas station near my home and the attendant (a young man, but not much younger than me) answered my question, but punctuating it with "Ma'am". I was so astonished at the time that I point blank asked him "Do I look like a ma'am to you?". He had no answer for me (probably because I embarrassed the hell out of him).

It took me quite a while to accept the fact that I would no longer be addressed as "miss", but crossing over into the "ma'am" territory was the first realization that I had that I was no longer a young woman, but rather a middle-aged one. Some people glide into middle age and accept all that comes with it: gray hair, expanding girth and wrinkles. I have been fighting the status quo anyway I can with any kind of ammunition I can get my hands on. I can tell you that I started all this at age 39. I mean, why put off until 40 what you know you must do to fend off the inevitable? I consider it a job I must do.

Okay, it's not a full-time job, but definitely a part-time one that I approach daily. Exercise, skin care, eating somewhat healthy are all ways I battle aging. I know I have to get older and hope I continue to do so since the alternative is not something I'm yet ready for. However, just because I am getting older, why must I look like I am? I still enjoy getting compliments and I'll take them as long as I can get them. On the other hand, there's something to be said about being comfortable in one's own skin and the other extreme is not an option for me. By that I mean those who have nipped, tucked and injected to the point of bordering on the horrific! I hope I always take good care of myself and feel good about how I look, but I hope someone slaps me if I ever start thinking Joan Rivers actually looks good for her age!