In his comment to my post below, RageBoy (with whom I briefly shook hands at BloggerCon) says I seemed to him like a “Nice Lady.”
Now, those are two words I won’t mind seeing coming out of the mouths of grandson’s future friends. But, c’mon, is that what a 63-year-old former funky disco queen who purposely wears tight jeans wants to hear?
I used to be delighted when my own kids’ friends called me a “cool mom.” I’ve also been called “arrogant,” “nasty,” and “hot” by various friends at various times. But “nice?” And “lady?” (shudder) Is that how far I’ve fallen?
I often tell my friend P that she’s too nice, and she knows that I don’t mean that as a compliment.
Call me a “screaming-mimi careening-out-of-control psychotic wolverine,” and, in a strange way, I feel validated. Call me a “nice lady” and I start wondering where I lost my edge and if I should put in my order for the rocking chair now.