You know you're over the hill when younger people refer to you as "Ma'am" or "My dear." Lately, I've been "my-deared" a lot. My hip surgeon (who looks like he is still in middle school) calls me "My dear." The other day, another doctor called me "My dear" as well.
I didn't mind it so much from the first doctor because, as I said, he is about the age of my grandchildren. However, the second doctor looked to be not too much younger than myself. And I was "my-deared" by him. From that, I deduce that I must look more ancient than my husband, children, and grandchildren assure me that I do.
I know what you're thinking. I can hear it now: Hey, "My dear" isn't so bad. I beg to differ. It falls in the same category as "She doesn't look half bad for her age." It's a case of damning with with faint praise.
Ah, well. I suppose I should be grateful that I'm damned with any kind of praise at all.
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