I’m Pretty Sure I’m Turning Into A WereCougar

A strange thing has been happening to me. Stranger than the ever expanding/drifting size of my ass, and my vain attempt to lose weight even though I’m eating better and walking 12-15 miles a week. I’m starting to be okay with my shape and…dare I say it…I’m starting to flaunt it a little.

 

Maybe it’s that I turn 40 next month, and there has to be a time when you stop hating yourself and just say “Fuck it. THIS is who I am. THIS is my body, this is my hair and skin and breasts, THIS is what I’ve got, and I’m going to stop beating myself up for not being a size 6 anymore.”

 

It slowly dawned on me that every time I eat, I feel guilty. Not just guilty, but APOLOGETIC. And ASHAMED. And that’s awful. I feel guilty every time I look in the mirror and I see size 12 me, instead of size 8 me. The truth is, I was only a size 8 when I was 16, and then again when I was in a marriage that didn’t fit me. A relationship so constricting, that I lost weight to slip away from it. I stayed thin for a while afterwards, but it wasn’t a happy-thin. It was a I’m-desperately-trying-to-get-my-life-together thin, and that ain’t sexy.

 

So. I’ve got a butt now. And a rack. And I’ve started wearing pretty frilly little outfits to bed, and just in general. I mean, how can you feel sexy when you’re wearing huge cotton undies? You can’t! You can, however, feel that farting is okay in public while wearing enormous cotton panties, because, why not. You’ve already crossed a line. (I speak from experience.)

 

I bought new clothes that fit THIS body, and not the body I think I should have. I bought some cute swingy skirts, and fitted shirts. Some jeans that hug the curves I have. New bras that lift me up a little bit further. (This may be too much detail for some of the fellas that read my blog. Sorry, brother.)

 

At any rate…I’m trying to change my mindset and it’s just possible that I may have succeeded in transforming myself into a WereCougar. I’m not going to go after college boys or anything, I mean, I’m very happily married (nod to Kealoha)…but I may randomly start sashaying or purring or something. I’m just tired of being so hard on myself and feeling bad about enjoying good food and good company and good living. It’s just stupid.

 

Bring on the pretty clothes and soft fabrics and girly, sexy underthings. I figure that at almost-forty, I deserve to celebrate. 

My Obsessive List of Back-to-Dating Questions

After a self-imposed exile (is that the right word?) of dating, I find I want to do it. Uhm, dating, that is, and not Do It…which is an entirely different thing, but yes, something I’d like to do too.

I’m having a little trouble in this area though. Mostly, it’s my brain. It’s getting in the way. At 36 and divorced and a single mom, I have a whole new list of dating questions and I don’t know the answer to them.

Here are a few:

1) Can I blog about a man I’m seeing if he reads my blog? (If I’m seeing you and you’re reading this, you may want to stop. Seriously.) My blog could prove awkward. A girl needs secrets…and while dating you want to appear perfect and like you always smell of scented lotion. You do not want to come off as neurotic, strange, or possibly obsessive…which are all conclusions you could make about me if you read my blog.

2) And if I blog about dating, can I do it while I’m dating or do I have to wait until months later? I keep envisioning me on a date that’s going really well, so well, we’re on some couch somewhere making out like teenagers and I say “Oh! Hold that thought! I want to tell everyone I’m making out like a teenager!” Then I run to the computer, type away, and then run back.

3) Do I wait for a man to approach me and ask me out or embrace newfound Cougar-within and approach him? And what are the new rules? When do I talk about my kids without making it sound like I want a new Daddy. I don’t, but the kids are an essential part of who I am. Like down to the DNA.

And men my age are usually divorced and/or fresh out of relationships or wounded by relationships. Do I wait until they’re more well-adjusted? Is someone who’s bitter about their ex best to be avoided? Or do I just jump in there and say “Hey! I’m here! Let’s do it!” (Dating, again, people. Not Do It. That’s for later.)

4) Can I date someone whose friend I dated but that was like in college when I didn’t know any better? That’s probably asking for a whole lot of drama.

5) Are all my former students who are now in their thirties off limits still? Because role-playing could be fun. No. That’s off the list. If you’re at my school looking to hire me, I would never NEVER date a student. (Again.)

6) Do I immediately mark off the list anyone who is living with their parents. Times are tough. It’s a new era, and lots of people need to get back on their feet.

7) Could I possibly have a fling? One that doesn’t necessarily mean anything? That would be free and easy, wouldn’t it? A passionate fling on a beach somewhere where I have long hair and a bikini body that makes the gods jealous? (Oops. Just slipped into fantasy there.)

8 ) I just answered my own question. I don’t think I’m a fling type of person. My heart always gets in the way.

And most importantly….

9) How do I stop that heart from getting broken? I’m terrified. Absolutely terrified of falling in love with the wrong person. I’m also terrified of falling in love with the right person.

10) I don’t really have a #10 but I felt like I couldn’t end a list on 9.

So that’s my obsessive list for dating. Who knows the answers to these questions? I could ask my therapist, but he’d probably tell me to just trust myself. I’d rather have someone just tell me what to do and not do. It would be a whole lot easier.