Just Another Middle Age Woman Complaining About Double Standards

A few weeks ago on Sunday Morning, Nancy Giles gave commentary on the state of courgarism. I sat in rapt attention and shouted a few amens as she pointed out the terrible connotations associated with the term cougar. According to Ms. Giles, the term makes the older woman seem desperate due to the nature of the animal's hunting ability. Also, it is the only large cat that doesn't roar. Ms. Giles said it best with her comment, "I am woman, hear me purr?"

No, honey, we cannot roar if we are looking for companionship because that may scare the prey away.

Frankly, the media genius who came up with the term "cougar" should be placed in a jungle full of cougars with meat strapped around his neck. I agree with Ms. Giles, the term is a slap in the face for every single, independent woman over the age of 35. Instead of being admired for the lives being led, they are deemed desperate, needy, and less than worthy. The comparison is nothing new, and I am not the first nor the last to say this, but how dare women be portrayed as predators while men are celebrated for their ability to be fruitful and multiply. Hello, Michael Douglass.

I just read the New York Times wedding announcements, and several couples have a 7 to 25 year age difference with the man being the elder partner. There are no magazines analyzing these pairings and there are no gasps over coffee. It is considered the norm. If the woman was older, it would have been the lead story with her talking about finding love with a younger man.

Men age gracefully; women just age. We all have heard that. The woman's worth decreases with menopause, but the man can procreate until death. Hello, Tony Randall. In this age of enlightenment, does this mean we are so stilted in our own personal evolution, we still manage to cling to the caveman psychology that our only purpose on this earth is to procreate? An older man is still respected because he is not tied to a biological clock? I believe we are trapped by the Victorian notions even after the so called sexual revolution. The revolution may have led to promiscuity in college, but I believe it failed the collective body of womanhood, especially since the term "cougar" has been coined. It has turned the notion of mature women being valued into a joke.

Well, let's go with that joke for the moment:

A New Six Word Saturday

Find your way to Cate:



I am becoming a good cook?


Okay, my gran's health isn't the best, so I am sending food to her so she doesn't have to cook as often. She told me my stew was cookbook worthy, and I am "becoming" a good cook. Mmmm, I have been on my own for thirteen years.

Yippee

During May, I was convinced each day of summer was going to be spectacular. We were going to have a pool. I was going to nonstop barbecue. I would keep each warm day sacred and holy. Didn't really happen that way, not at all. The beach was wonderful, and my sun and sand candles inspired many a daydream, but it wasn't like I imagined. Summer, even as sweet as it was, was centered around my mother's recovery from knee replacement surgery, flood clean-up, and rain. I know we don't live in Forks, WA, but you would have thought it with all of our dreary, rainy summer days. Even though a little summer is better than no summer, nothing lived up to the magazine covers. Due to this endless spring, I wasn't really looking forward to autumn.

Well, my last statement was a tad misleading because I am always looking forward to autumn. It is my favorite season, and I am crazy about every corny fall tradition. This year I have tried to cling to my summer dream, but then I went into my Big Lots tonight, and lo and behold, there was aisle after aisle of fun Halloween and autumn decorations. We played with every single thing that made noise. We played in costumes. We played in the Christmas, yes, Christmas decorations and made the farting Santa sing and dance. Quickly the Friday weariness faded, and the kids and I just gave in to the goofiness. We had a blast, but it also allowed me to look and window shop for new autumn decor. I am now looking forward to crisp nights and candy apples. Bring on the cozy.

Update

Thing One is doing so much better this evening. Her fever is gone, mood is better, and the smile is back on her face. Thing Two is back to 100% of his wonderful self, and I am on the couch counting the moments to bed. Must mean I am almost back to normal.

Oh, and you have to see my new favorite television show:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/brian-boitano/index.html



He makes me want to move to California, make hip friends, and cook wonderful food. He is smart, witty, and just a fun time. Brian Boitano is DVR worthy.

Please, Please Tell Me Now

Sometimes, like everybody else in this universe, I can be needy. Yes, we all can be needy now and then. Humans crave positive reinforcements. We want love and to feel needed. That is totally normal, and as I watch my grandmother ask how her meal tastes, I understand. Little affirmations can get us through the day, especially bad days. I know I needed all the get well wishes from yesterday, and they really did make me feel a bit better. The positive vibes gave me the ability to focus on the blessings of the day and not the fact I have the headache from Hades; yet, when can we take it too far and actually ostracize those who we need?

This topic came up in a conversation I had with a friend yesterday. She was a bit put out by a recent friend's behavior on Facebook. The friend, who IRL has always been looking for these affirmations, has taken it a step higher on the social network. Her self-depricating nature is now daily found on quizes and status updates. If it comes up that she is channeling Marilyn, then she says, "Of course, I can never be that sexy." No, you cannot. I cannot. Normal people cannot, but there are instantly comments assuring her that yes, she is every bit as sexy as Marilyn. So, now instead of just fishing for attention from her circle of friends, she is throwing her line longer and deeper. She is angling for that friend who hasn't seen her since 8th grade. She is baiting the co-worker who is really just being polite.

Am I judging? Actually, no. I understand. I have been there. I have felt unloved and discarded, and I looked for my missing self-esteem where I knew I could find it: my friends, family, and other self-loathing people who wanted me to know that they had it worse than me. I hate spider veins, I hate my body is battle scared, and I want to feel pretty now and then...okay, every single day of my life. Sometimes, occassionally, I just have to cast the line myself. Like Pavlov's dog, we hear the bell and we salivate, wanting more. I did it recently when I posted last month I was unsure about my new red hair. I didn't mean to cast my insecurities out there, but I did. Of course, I was just being honest, but I did it in a way that gave me the love I was needing that day. It was not a conscious effort, but I would be lying if I said I didn't like the attention.

Where do we draw the line then? When we cannot get through the day without a pat on our backs. When we no longer find love and satisfaction within ourselves. Forgive me for sounding like a self-help book and a cliche, but as women, we need to realize that perfection is an air brushed dream, and we can be perfect for ourselvs even with spider veins and battle scared bodies. We shouldn't have to look to others to find fullfilment because it isn't going to happen. We need to stand up and scream, "Hell, ya, I know I can rock it like Marilyn or Betty Paige or Audrey Hepburn or anybody else Facebook throws at me!" Then dare anybody to comment differently.

Oh, and please feel free to comment.

Robynbeth's Post for Six Word Saturday

Two kids, one mom, still sick.

Just a Friday Night Observation

I am sick, my daughter is sick, my son is sick, and countless others around us are coughing and hacking and snotting around my universe. I am just thankful it isn't worse. Two friends in other states have children who have been diagnosed with N1H1, and it makes me realize this cold is just an inconvenience. Well, it is still a coughing, hacking, snotty inconvenience.

I did make it to the grocery store, but only because Thing One wanted ice cream and needed meds. I know that a little bit of mommy love and Ben and Jerry's can make it all better. Well, at least we can fake it better with Ben and Jerry in the house.

Oh, and here is my big observation: I love Ghost Hunters. Jason and Grant rock, and I plan my Wednesdays around them. I enjoy Ghost Adventures on The Travel Channel. This show is what happens when you give impressionable frat boys cameras and a few beers. Yes, they take it more seriously than that, but it has a frat boy with camera and beer feel. That isn't a bad thing actually, and the camera man, Aaron, is a hoot. Now, what is up with that British Show Most Haunted? Every place is haunted, and they run around screaming and crying the entire time. If you have been hired to investigate ghosts, why be that cowardly? I am not a ghost hunter so I have permission to scream and cry; however, they lose every single bit of their street cred with they fall apart. If you go looking for ghosts, you will most likely one day find a ghost.

Okay, enough rambling for this night. Sleep tight and don't go looking for ghosts.