Hubby Dave was gone for a few days (he’s back now) so Friday night was girl’s night out with my friends Mel and Arlene and their friend Allison — drinking wine at Friends of the Vine, chatting, snacking on cheese and crackers. One of Mel’s friends, a lovely Indian woman, whose name I didn’t quite catch, and a friend of hers, joined us briefly.
Last weekend Dave and I did a ’50 mile’ bike ride in Solvang (the course was actually short, about 45 miles on my bike odometer). We met up with Mel and Arlene and Mike for wine tasting then a few more people for dinner.
Now, the thing is, at what point do you call yourself a girl or woman? or view other women as girls or women?
I look at Mel, and Arlene, and Allison, and myself, and am perfectly content referring to us as ‘girls’. As in ‘girls’ night out, ‘girlfriends’ etc. (And does anyone have any other term than girlfriend to refer to your female friends????)
We’re all in our mid to mid late 30s (I’ll hang on to that ‘mid’ modifier as long as possible!). I personally think we all look a lot younger (and this isn’t just vanity, most people peg me as early thirties — not even needing ‘mid’ as a qualifier). We’re a bunch of educated, successful professionals — I’m a vet, Mel’s a surgeon, Allison a college teacher, Arlene in management/ retail. Mel’s friend is an OB/Gyn. We all have expensive hobbies (triathlon, skiing, wine, etc) and the incomes to support them.
So the point is, we’re not some fluffy aimless teeny-boppers. We’re really grown-ups. With grown up lives. And god knows, I’d hate to hear, say, Dave’s high school students, even his seniors, comment on how old they think we are.
Some of the women who joined us for dinner in Los Olivos I would refer to as women –partly because they were older (or at least looked a fair bit older), maybe because they carried themselves differently, I don’t know. The age bit is probably important — not the number, but just because they are older than ME.
Obligatory knitting content: working on the lace edging on Mom’s Angora still.