I’m 43 years young. I’ve got a few white hairs mixing in with my bangs. I’m not afraid to show them, and someday soon, my 6-month old grandson, Giovanni, will babble words and perhaps call me something crazy, like “grandma.”
Grandma is a title I’ve respectfully earned. No substitute. Not my first name. Not my middle name. Not something as ridiculous as “Glam-Ma,” a term actress Goldie Hawn coined so as not to feel “old.”
According to UrbanDictionary.com, “If 60 is the new 40, then GlamMa is the new grandma, a woman with a sense of self and style.”
How can a woman feel a “sense of self” if she’s in self-denial about her much-to-be-coveted “grandma-hood?”
Another trend is grandchildren calling grandparents by their first name. Unacceptable. Gray and white hair — not there yet, but once I get there — is supposed to be our crown of glory.
Our culture will continuously decline if we keep emphasizing youth over age. Theoretically, age is accompanied by wisdom… in most cases. There’s my disclaimer.
But seriously, I tire of age being an issue in elections. Character counts, but a few white hairs say a candidate has been there and done that.
Hopefully, our next president has a head full of white hair, right glam-, no grandma?
Now that’s grand.
Helena Rodriguez is a freelance writer. Contact her at: