“Guess how old I be?”

It felt like a dare, a test, and a trap all at once.  Anyone with half an ounce of sense knows never to talk about a woman’s age, even if she asks, especially if she asks.

But this woman was insisting with a somewhat gap-toothed grin, bent on pulling us into her impromptu competition.  The women in the group were the first to brave up and throw out numbers, and a handful of the men joined in too.

A combination of caution and her own spry appearance led to such guesses as fifty, forty-five, and sixty-two.  I suspect we were still too wary to approach the possibility of insulting her with our wagers.

“I’mma eighty-three and a great-grandmother!” she announced triumphantly after we concluded our guessing.

We all marveled at how little she looked her age—which was true—, while simultaneously feeling relieved that we hadn’t guessed too high and that the dangerous part of the game was past.

After all, never underestimate a Southern woman.  You can never tell which ladies are in denial about their age or embracing it proudly, and sometimes you can’t avoid the tests like this one.  As consolation, though, we Southern women have at least removed a stumbling block that is common elsewhere, for you don’t have to worry so much about a woman berating you for calling her “ma’am” and taking it as an insult about her age.  And Southern women are also typically ladies enough not to get too offended or violent if you do happen to reference their age by mistake.  That is part of being gracious, after all.