Yes, I know I am getting older. The evidence is there for all to see with the few stubborn grey hairs that are sprouting at my temple, my eyebrows and everywhere else for that matter. There are fine lines around my eyes and at the sides of my mouth. And if that’s not enough I hear my bones creak and crack every time I stand up, all two hundred and six of them. Fifty has opened her door with a flourish and is gently ushering me in but I’m taking my time though. I’m in no rush. I have accepted that I am growing up, as I like to call it, or so I thought.

However, when random strangers start calling me ‘Tanty’, it’s serious business. I think I tend to take care of myself reasonably well, moisturizing my skin day and night, and looking fairly decent when I’m out in public. So, who gives these random people the right to address me as their Tanty. I don’t know if it’s me alone, but when I hear the word Tanty, it conjures up an old, bespectacled woman clad in layers of clothing, one of which must be a sweater. She’s usually wearing an ill-fitting wig – tied with a head scarf – that has seen better days and she has at least two bags, filled with everything imaginable.

Now the only thing that a Tanty and I have in common is that we both wear glasses. I intentionally leave all extra bags at home and I bought a cute little shoulder bag, so there’s no temptation to stuff it with everything. These days the perimenopause symptoms are at bay, so there’s no excessive sweating and overwhelming fatigue. I talk to myself constantly but I ensure that my lips are pressed firmly together when this happens so that no one sees me muttering. Please stop this Tanty nonsense. It is not cute. And I am almost certain this is a Caribbean thing. Where else in the world do strangers address mature women as Tanty? I would like to know. It is downright rude. A good day Ma’am or Miss would work just as well or just good day. I was at the bank recently and this woman who wasn’t much younger than me had the gall to say, “Tanty you can go ahead.’ Promptly, I shot back, ‘I am not your tanty!’ Needless to say, I caught her by surprise but I didn’t care. Watch me and make me out. I am not there yet. And am I supposed to feel any better with the endearing shortened version, Tants? Stop it!

I am seriously considering getting a mohawk, dyeing it blonde and doing a couple piercings. I’ll throw in a few tattoos for good measure all in a bid to look untantified. What do you guys think?

Are you all really okay with being called Tanty?

2 Comments

  1. LOL. I shouldn’t laugh but I can’t help it. I know how you feel. I have a similar feeling when I’m called ‘madam’ Still, it’s a reminder to live life to the fullest and be our authentic self. Glad you symptoms are at bay and go on get that mohawk!

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