I was flattered when I was carded in my late thirties. But then I was highly miffed when the gatekeeper hollered, “Hey guys, look how old this lady is!”, then asked if I didn’t feel out of place. Not until that very moment I didn’t. I got over being miffed and danced until I dropped that evening, and never returned to be embarrassed at that venue, harumph.
When I was in my forties, I was pretty miffed when my mother mentioned that it might be time for me to consider having some cosmetic work done and that I could probably use an updated hair style. Now that my own son is in his forties, and what little of his remaining hair is graying, I have a better understanding that her advice was less about my appearance, but more that my show of age made my mother feel older. I know my son would be miffed if I mentioned hair growth or coloring products, but gosh it is hard to be silent on the topic. Sigh, not good to miff one’s adult children.
I was truly miffed when I turned 50 and learned that women of a certain age have more oral plaque – this in addition to all those other fun attributes of aging we hear about, but I bought a better toothbrush, switched dentists, and smiled more, despite my plaque.
And yes, I was miffed when I was surprised with an AARP membership, but I took advantage of savings and compared my appearance to others who I was quite certain weren’t aging as well. Since my eyesight isn’t all that great, my appearance seemed pretty fabulous to me. I do confess to embarrassment when I called a classmate "Sir" when inquiring directions to my high school reunion. The guy really looked old, but didn’t seem miffed at me at all – so kind!
I was even more miffed the year I turned 65 and was deluged with multiple daily offers for various Medicare plans. I began telling the solicitors that I wasn’t so old that I didn’t realize how old I was and could make my own Medicare decisions, thank you very much. Those calls really miffed me!
I continued to be miffed these days when I showed up in court, but I smiled politely when judges and attorneys (darn whippersnappers) said that they thought I’d quit practicing years ago, and one even said that he thought I was dead. Sigh. It’s okay. Not dead yet, thank you. Too miffed to give anyone the pleasure of checking out, harumph.
I admit I was miffed when my orthopedic surgeon said my knees were shot and should have been repaired by now, as surgery is harder the older one gets. I smiled and thanked him through gritted teeth as he injected stuff made from a rooster’s comb into my knees. I now crow from time to time around the office to see if anyone is paying attention. I’m a bit miffed when they act like crowing is normal, harumph.
I try hard not to be miffed when some of my clients ask how much longer I plan on being in practice and ask who would take over their matters if I, well, died before they do, but I smile politely and introduce them to my intended replacement. Not miffed, well, not much. I swear most of them look older than me even if they are not. Not miffed.
I was miffed, but secretly pleased when I received offers to purchase my practice because my firm has been around for so long that its reputation is worth more than, oops, having me around (It still uses my first marriage’s name though I’ve been married to someone else for twenty years, so I suppose the firm’s reputation is totally separate from my abilities, right?). “Doesn’t matter,” said the purchaser –“The firm has a great reputation and I don’t want to change its name. When will you be ready to leave? I know you'd like to retire." I hadn't necessarily planned to do it so soon, but not truly miffed, just feeling a bit obsolete.