As we were walking to lunch the other day, somehow we got on the subject of age and the fact that my 40th birthday is next month. And somehow from there my mind made the leap to “oh crap, if I stare at younger guys that’s going to make me a cougar.”
See, in my mind, cougardom, that province of disgusting mature women on reality shows, starts at forty. At some point, the percentage of guys older and younger than you tilts in favor of the cradle, and when you add in looks, the ogle-ability quotient steepens that slope. How can you avoid checking out younger men? It’s inevitable.
Lucky for me, though, I looked up cougar in that trusty old standard urbandictionary.com. While normally I’m a don’t-sweat-the-details sort of person, in this case the details are important. There are seven entries. Things were a bit scary in the beginning when I found out that some young whippersnappers consider women 35+ to be in the right range. Have I been in this category for five years without knowing it? Worse, the next entry broadens it to women in their 30s and 40s.
However, then I started noticing things about “overprocessed hair and skin” and “surgically altered”. If I can say anything with confidence (and really, who can?), I can say that I don’t have overprocessed hair and skin. And the only surgical altering I’ve ever done was at feral cat spay and neuter clinics.
Anyhow, I’ve defined myself out of risk, and I can go back to my normal obliviousness.
Whatever. I am woman, hear me roar…