So I’m at the wedding shower for my future sister-in-law on Saturday. I’m a bridesmaid. Now, granted, I am the oldest bridesmaid. Only one other is married, the rest are under 20 (there’s 7, I think). And we’re all talking, visiting, blah blah blah.
And this bridesmaid – still in high school – says to me, “Can I call you by your first name? I mean, I don’t want to be disrespectful or anything.”
WHAT?!?! (the bold, italic, caps cannot to justice to my indignation here.) Just how old do you think I am!!?!?! How old do I look? Excuse me while I whack you in the head with my cane, which I will need as I hobble down the aisle behind all these youngsters. For the record I am only 27. and three quarters, if you must know.
Now, I do not have grey hair or wrinkles. I think I dress fairly hip. I believe that my outfit that day was entirely from the GAP. And I had a pretty hip purse that was admired by the other bridesmaids. So, WHAT??!?! Am I so old that high school kids feel uncomfortable calling me by my first name? Yes, I have two kids and yes, I do drive a minivan. But do I really, really seem that old??
I am sooo depressed. I’m going out to buy some eye cream.
The Bride-to-be with her quilt
front of quilt
border embroidery
back
This was G1 when she was one day old. Geez, I love babies – especially when they are super teeny-tiny…