I was in my local coffee shop the other day and noticed something peculiar. Cougars, and not just one or two, but a whole pack of them (what the heck to you call a group of cougars? Seriously, they are typically solitary animals unlike their urban middle aged female divorcee). Judging by the helium balloons, it seems they were gathered for a young child’s 6th birthday party.
The first thing I noticed was the inappropriate dress. Inappropriate because it was a Saturday morning, a child’s birthday party, and these were 60+/- year old women dressed like 20 something sluts. DO I NEED TO SEE THIS SHIT BEFORE I GET MY MORNING COFFEE?!? One gal was wearing cotton, skin tight, stirrup pants and a low cut leopard print halter top. A second was wearing black (because it’s slimming) tights and a tight fitting sweatshirt (tight because she was shaped, and looked, like a female M&M). By the time the third one rolled over wearing almost the same outfit, I was noticing the trend. The bad hair dye jobs, the poofy long hair styles, and the extensive makeup completed the image.
I immediately sent a text message to Talleyrand describing the situation. I thought snapping off a picture or two might be a little too obvious. I turned to the cute gal behind the counter who was telling me all the things she wants to accomplish but lamenting the fact that she doesn’t have a boyfriend. I told her she shouldn’t wait too long or she might end up old and bitter like those cougars.
Later that day I went to my company Christmas party. There was a nice mid 40’s gal there catering. After 26 years of marriage she found herself a single empty nester. She filled me in on her life story and finished off by telling me she was better off without her cheating husband (who did cheat and then denied everything when confronted about it). She finished off her story with a half-hearted fist pump, a sad little smile, and a decrescendo shout of ‘Cougar power.’
There really isn’t anything much more pathetic than a woman trying to hold on to her beauty and her sexual power when she’s well past her sell by date. I didn’t feel sorry for the coffee shop cougars. I did feel a small modicum of pity for the caterer, but then I crushed it utterly.
