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For the blog challenge today, I was supposed to write about heat or what gets me hot under the collar or hot and bothered.  Well, I thought I could jokingly write about the new movie, The Heat.  (Great movie, btw.)  Then I considered writing about sweat and how I sweat in random wrong locations when it gets hot out.  But here at the end of the day, let me tell you what gets me hot under the collar (or at least what did today).

Yes, I do love Matt Damon, Adam Levine, Andy Roddick, Darius Rucker.  Okay, I could go on, but as much as those boys are hot, let me tell you what made me hot today.  I got called a lady, as in “Yeah, I have a lady coming back to special order some brushes.”  Okay, guy, a lady?  Really?  Ma’am I totally understand.  Yes, Ma’am.  Whatcha need, ma’am?  Totally doable.  But “lady?”  Really?

Do I really look like a lady?  In my Wonder Woman t-shirt and jeans shorts and Adidas flip-flops?  Am I really old enough to be a lady?  I thought ladies wore dresses, acted dignified, and went to soirees and fundraisers.  I pretty much do none of those things.  I’m more your jeans, smart ass, and beer tent kind of a girl.  Am I the only one who’s run into this problem?  Because I can’t be.  Right?

I mean, isn’t a lady like the Queen of England or Helen Mirren or at the very least, Martina McBride?  I’m talking women that wear high heels and refrain from cursing and call it “cursing” instead of cussing like I do.  See, those are ladies.  I’m…well, I’m not.

Clearly, there needs to be a new word invented for women that aren’t classy enough to be ladies but possibly (and I say only possibly) too old to be referred to as girls.  So what should it be?  Tell me.

Until then I’ll be channeling my inner redneck girl to combat the effects of being called a lady.  Join me.

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