Don’t Be a Namby-Pamby

In case you hadn’t figured it out (or read my About page), I am female. If you haven’t read my About page, why the hell not? I’m interesting.

By the way, how great is the word “namby-pamby?”

Anyway, one of my biggest pet peeves is when I extend my hand to shake someone else’s hand, I get this lame and flimsy finger squeeze poor excuse for a handshake. While it really irritates me when a female does it, it’s even more irritating when a man does it.

Dammit, grasp my hand firmly and shake. I’m (generally) not going to bite, and you’re not going to break my hand unless you’re, like, the Incredible Hulk or some poorly programmed robot.

A firm handshake is a universal sign of confidence and strength and to demonstrate mutual respect. Thus, everyone should have one. Yes, even ladies. I have one.

However, this is no license for the handshaker to crush the life out of his/her handshakee’s hand.

On the other hand (pun intended), a weak handshake will definitely leave an impression and not in a good way. Oftentimes called a “dead fish” handshake, such a flimsy, feeble, and flaccid handshake is not the impression you want to make. Or receive from another.

Bite Your Tongue

I hate being called “ma’am.” Yes, I know “hate” is a strong word and leaves a bad taste in some people’s mouths. So, I ask these folks, what would you prefer? Abhor? Detest? Loathe? Despise? Insert your preferred word, but I’m going to stick with “hate.” Because I do.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand that those who utter it (as well as “sir”) do so out of respect, and kudos to their parents for instilling within their children manners and respect because, Lord knows, there is a huge shortage of manners in today’s world (a topic best left for another rant.)

Anyway, back to “ma’am.”

What would I rather be called? Oh, how about ANYTHING else: “miss” or “mizz”, perhaps? “Madam”, maybe (even though I don’t own a brothel.) Even “sir”, “bro”, or “dude” is preferable to “ma’am”. As someone who is deep in the throes of a midlife crisis that has been ongoing for, oh, 13 years, anything that makes me uber cognizant of the fact that I am, despite my utter contempt for the word, middle-aged needn’t be said. Ever.

I’m doing a fantastic job of fighting this whole aging thing. Seriously, I am. Not only do I not look my age, I neither feel nor act it, thanks to a (mostly) healthy diet, regular exercise, no smoking, no drinking, no drugs, outstanding skin care, and good genes. I oftentimes pass for late 30’s-early 40’s, and this removes a bit of the sting from being called “ma’am” and my ever-increasing age.

Oh, by the way, I’m looking for a fake ID that makes me 34 again, so if anyone knows anyone in the “creative printing” business, please let me know.