Today I was out with a friend of mine. It was the kind of steamy hot southern day that leaves you pledging to live right so you won’t go to hell. For some reason, we chose this day to check out some local thrift stores. Yes, I said thrift stores. They are only called vintage stores if you live in some other part of the country. Ok, so we had already made our way through a couple of our favorites and decided to end up our shopping in the Goodwill store. We browsed for a bit and my friend found a few things to purchase. We left the store laughing and talking about nothing. As we walked out of the door, two young men approached. They were dressed in the trendy style of the day: caps tilted, gold grills, long baggy shorts and the required white tall t- shirt. I held the door open for them. One trotted forward a couple of steps to grab the door. He smiled and said “Thanks, Baby girl!”
I smiled back and walked away with my friend. She was horrified. “Did you hear what he called you? Baby girl? You could probably be his mother!”
I didn’t think it was such a big deal. “He was speaking in his words. He wasn’t being disrespectful.”
I knew what she meant. We are both over 40… ok, waaayyyy over 40. And here in the south women our age are used to being called Ma’am. Truth is, I have always liked to be called Babygirl. I had a boyfriend that called me that and to this day I have a weakness for men who call me that. Besides, I am called Ma from time to time and I don’t resent it. I understand that it is a term of respect and I receive it as such. But still, there is something about being called babygirl by a cute boy that makes me smile.