(Note: my domain will be undergoing an update in five days, but since I don’t understand the parameters, I need to talk to someone in person. So if my website goes offline at any time, I’m aware of it, and will take care of it as soon as I can).

When the hell did I become “cute?”

There’s little girl “cute.” You know, hair bows and braids and pigtails and pink light-up sandals. There’s kitten and baby bunny “cute,” complete with soft fluff and wide-eyed innocence. And there are other kinds.

“Oh, that outfit is so cute!”

“That is such a cute idea!”

“What a cute picture!”

I honestly can’t think of anymore ways the word “cute” is appropriate. So how the hell did I reach “cute” status?

I’ve been getting it a lot lately, not in the good way (is there a good way?) and I’m wracking my brain to try and figure out what I’m doing that is so “cute.” It’s not exactly what I’m going for.

I’m not a “cute” professor. I’m rather terrifying, actually, or so I’ve been told.

I’m not a “cute” mom. See above.

I don’t dress “cute.” My style is modern, classic, sophisticated. I never ever wear pink, or bows, or ruffles, or anything that pre or post-dates me.

I don’t speak “cute.” I’m articulate. I don’t use youthful slang, or that annoying soft baby voice that young girls get away with.

I don’t write “cute.” I don’t like Chicken Soup for the Soul books, or romance novels. I’m edgy, and racy. I’d be more likely to write porn than a love poem.

I don’t act “cute.” How does one even act cute? Girls in their early twenties can still get away with that, so I’ll leave it to them.

I don’t work “cute.” Let’s leave it at that. Cute has no place in the workplace.

It is not men calling me “cute.” Men know I’m more than “cute.” It’s mostly twenty-something girls. I guess I remind them of their moms, so I don’t fault them, but they have to stop.

I’m not cute. Maybe one day. But not yet.

But just as I sometimes refer to men and women in their eighties as “cute,” they see me the same. To them I am a cute older lady managing to navigate the world that now belongs to them.

I get it. But it ain’t so cute.