As a single woman in my early (very early) 50's, I'm not sure I appreciate the label, "cougar."
Yes, it may seem a bit strange that I included this label in my blog title . . but to those who know me - it figures. To those who don't, read on and perhaps it will make more sense to you.
When I first heard that we women in the spring of our mature years are referred to as this magnificent feline, I thought, "cool, I can relate to being called a sleek, proud, masterful creature who can handle herself in the wild world." Then I was told, "well, it's not a compliment." And I was regaled with images of desperate women past their prime, pancaked and primped to the max, stuffed into too-tight, too-young clothing, prowling the bars for a man to devour for the night, for the weekend, for the time it takes his cash flows to run dry.
And it made me sad.
For we are not ALL this pathetic creature.
Some of us are purrrfectly content to be single, at least for now, and know that, whether or not we ever find someone we can be happy sharing our lives with, we are happy with ourselves first, so we will be just fine no matter what. We are comfortable in our skins, spots and all, and when we do go out, we are still young enough to be 'girls who want to have fun' and look good doing it! So I refuse to buy into the labeled vision of woman as cougar. I choose instead, to consider myself and women my age to be the magnificent beings that initially came to mind when I first heard the term Cougar.
So raise your glass of red or white, your cosmo or martini (or whatever you choose to imbibe) and toast the beauty, the glorious freedom of the true cougar: a woman - undeterred by cresting the hill, enjoying the exhilaration of self acceptance, the bliss of no inhibitions, the peace of self reliance, and the desire to continue to seek out romance and partnership without preconceptions.