On returning from my run this afternoon, I bent over to pluck some weeds that I’d overlooked earlier in the day. I stood up and looked at a truck passing by, only to find two grinning teenage kids leering at me out of the window.

I had to stop myself from turning around to see who they were looking at. I hadn’t taken a shower since the night before, and my run was only the culmination of a very muddy, sweaty, solitary day in the garden. My outfit consisted of an ancient wifebeater, brightly colored spandex from Ross, and painfully white new running shoes (I swear I’m not a newbie, I swear!)

In other words, I looked like a crazy woman. Hot, you say? Why yes, apparently it was.

In general, I don’t seem to get as many looks these days as I used to. Few make it past the force field generated by the bauble on my finger, and when they do, I don’t notice it as much because I am less threatened by the attention. I no longer dress very provocatively (i.e. I look like a boy myself most of the time!), so no matter their actual age, guys with adolescent tendencies don’t really pay me much notice.

So it was definitely a shock to see these guys leering at me — granted, I was wearing spandex, but still. Then it hit me: am I nearing the age of MILFdom? These boys were clearly at least eight to ten years younger than me, if not more so. Looking at me through their eyes, I saw not a dirty crazy person who’d been in her garden all day, but rather a fit, slightly older woman in tight clothes, bending over to pick something up. Hello? So what if she’s older, man, leer away!

As my husband so kindly points out, I am of course missing the key ingredient to the status of MILFdom, that being the “mother” part of it. OK, granted, but still — I think I’m well on my way. A MILF in training, if you will. All in all, I felt pretty damn good about myself, and gave the guys a big grin in return for their efforts.

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