Welcome to my blog, which I have called The Sandwich Lady. I have been thinking about this for a long time. It’s for women who often feel sandwiched between the generations in their vast families, and between their comfortable life and their postponed dreams.
A Sandwich Lady has grown kids who love her but don’t need mothering and an octogenarian mom who still treats her like a little girl.
AND…this Sandwich Lady has a preteen son who keeps her feeling young but has some classmates whose parents look like her older children.
A Sandwich Lady occasionally feels as energetic as she did at 20, but nervously checks the obits every day to see if anybody in their 50s has died, and from what.
A Sandwich Lady has a lot more that she yearns to give the world – her professional talents, her personal insights, her passions, her wisdom – but worries that people won’t be able to look past her age.
A Sandwich Lady on some days wants to launch a business and on other days wants to bag groceries. She’s not sure which would make her happier.
A Sandwich Lady yearns for challenges that test and confirm her ability to change and to grow, but needs to overcome bad habits that she’s had for 30 years.
A Sandwich Lady is in a rut that is sometimes lined with velvet and other times lined with nettles. Sometimes she feels too tired to climb out.
On to more superficial things:
A Sandwich Lady stopped being a babe about 15 or 20 years ago, the first time somebody called her “Maam” instead of “Miss.” She remembers exactly where it happened. (At a supermarket in suburban Philadelphia.)
A Sandwich Lady knows that when she is out in public she should never EVER wear cargo pants and a black top unless she is willing to put on loads of makeup, because she’ll look like death or an unkempt teenage guy.
A Sandwich Lady plasters a beatific smile over her dismay when she’s out with her son and somebody assumes he’s her grandson.
A Sandwich Lady always puts on lipstick to keep her lips from looking like overcooked veal.
A Sandwich Lady is somewhat at peace with her face but not her neck (As Nora Epron pointed out so eloquently.)
I know there are other Sandwich Ladies out there.