Last night I was picking up a friend from the hospital. She was laying in the bed in recovery and I had stopped to get her a much-desired Starbucks coffee. The nurse crinkled her nose. “No, no, no!” she chirped. “We mustn’t get our tummy all upset.”

My friend is a 54 year woman; I’m just under 50. I wish I could say this infantilizing treatment was an exception in my life but more and more, this is becoming the rule. I have somehow time-travelled back to when I was in 4^th grade. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now.

Who decided that older Americans such as myself who pay mortgages, birthed babies, pay taxes, buy cars & hold one or more degree’s should be treated like babies?

Is it just women they are treating this way? Is it just Corporations that treat women this way? Plus the Media? Plus the Healthcare System?

Talk to me people!

I drive in to work, listening to the same advertisement they play over and over again on my adult radio station: “Cover your mouth when you sneeze….and wash your hands! Take a minute please….and wash your hands!” It’s sung by elementary school teachers to listening adults. And annoyingly, the tune stays in my head for hours afterwards.

Didn’t we used to be considered smart, sassy, wise, dignified, sharp? How did I go from clever at 32 to a doddering, slobbering goober who doesn’t know to wash her hands at 48? What memo did I miss? What tinfoil hat directive passed me by?

Every Monday our local newscasters do pilates during the news. The Newewewewewz! I can’t take it any more. I don’t care who you are, I don’t want to look at your butt at 6am on a Monday morning over my coffee. It’s not news and I don’t need one more person scolding me because my core is weak.

The infantilization of the human spirit. When did it start? And is it just directed at women?

At my former place of employment, for eight years, whenever a department party was planned it included games. Games! For middle-aged, fully employed women. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I spent my whole childhood looking forward to growing up and being independent and strong and I’m reduced to little kid games at some cheap joint in town where they are forcing us to wear paper hats. I did not sign up for this! At a team-building event, they made us run relay races. I steadfastly refused. “I’m an adult now,” I said sweetly. “I don’t have to do that anymore.” People were actually raising their hands asking if they could go to the bathroom.

My colleagues and I complained to our new boss that asking us all to sit in 1 hour of gridlocked traffic for a 20 minute meeting in town seemed not the best use of our time. We suggested that she wait until AFTER the commuter hour so we could shoot to the meeting in 10 minutes, and we’re out of there. Did we get a pat on the back? We did not.

“You’re so spoiled!” she exclaimed. Spoiled? What was next, would she put us in a timeout?

At my new job, it’s no better. When my colleagues met an important business goal and deadline, they were offered a Pizza Party for lunch. Really, I said. Are you twelve? Twelve year olds get pizza parties [not really, they’ve outgrown them]. Grown women get monetary incentives, comp time, a Blackberry. Don’t they? Well, no, apparently they do not.

Today I received an internal memo. It is mandatory that we attend a 2 hour and 15 minute training on Safety tomorrow. Safety? First of all, just by virtue of the fact I’m still living and breathing at age 48 proves I’ve got that little skill set pretty much down. I told my husband. He asks, “You sit at a desk all day. What are they going to teach you, not to stab yourself in the eyes with pencils?” I read down the list: crossing streets, being aware of your surroundings, and wait for it….washing your hands. “Hmmm,” I told him. “Looks like they are just going to go over everything I learned in kindergarten.”