I was in the check out line at the grocery store the other day when I realized that I’m officially old. The signs were right there:

10.  Other than Kate Middleton and Prince William I had no idea who any of the young, beautiful people on the cover of magazines were or why I should be interested in their lives. Even more telling, I had no  interest in finding out.

9.  As I made faces at the cute baby in the cart in front of me, the cashier asked her mother for her i.d. to buy alcohol. When the mother proudly said she was 24, I realized I was old enough to be her mother and the baby’s grandmother.

8.  I also bought a bottle if wine, but the cashier didn’t even bother to ask for my i.d. In fact, I’m pretty sure she  rolled her eyes when I asked if  she needed to see it.

7.  I wasn’t wearing makeup or contacts, and the old paint-stained t-shirt I was wearing wasn’t the least bit flattering.  I didn’t care how I looked, but the 24-year-old mother in the cute sundress gave me a look of sympathy.

6. The even younger woman in pajama pants behind me in line  paid no attention to me or the clothes I was wearing. I, on the other hand, couldn’t understand how wearing pajama pants was acceptable but my paint-stained shirt wasn’t.

5.  I asked the cashier to do a price check.

4. I was buying raisin bran.

3. I was actually jealous that the 24-year old in front of me was buying Captain Crunch.

2. The cashier called me ma’am.

1. The bag boy warned me that a couple of my bags were really heavy and I should be careful when lifting them or I would hurt my back.

I could have left the grocery store wondering how I had become one of  “those women.” Instead, I left feeling proud.

I am one of those women who has enough experience to recognize that I can’t be defined by what I wear or what I buy. Instead, I am defined by years of experience – as evidenced by the lines around my eyes. I am defined by the words I say – and more importantly the words I don’t. I am defined by how I react to life circumstances – both good and bad.

Most importantly, I am “one of those women” who realizes that the truly important moments and people in our lives are never captured on the glossy photos in magazines. Instead they are captured in the angry, sad, jealous and joyful moments that those of us who are described as “those women” can use to teach the next generation.

If  that makes me feel a bit old, I’m  o.k. with that. And if that means I have to tolerate being called ma’am on a regular basis, I’m o.k. with that too.

After all, “those women” understand what being called ma’am really means.