Cuberty...

I know, I am making up words, again.  And as much as I would love to claim this one as mine, it isn’t.  I saw it on Instagram.  But it was funny and inspired me to write what follows:

First of all, what exactly is cuberty?  Well, it is cougar puberty.  Kinda like puberty but it is what happens to us middle aged women in our 50s.  And if you are decent looking and in your 50s, then you are considered a cougar.  I guess because we have a reputation for running down young bucks.  I mean, I don’t really do that anymore...but I did.

Cuberty is the whole host of issues that plague the 50 year old woman:

Emotional benders

Hot flashes

Impulsivity

Random ideas followed by random actions

Increased sex drive

Lack of sleep

Chin hairs gone wild

It is just like puberty, except 40 years later.  So nice that we get to do this twice because it was so much fun the first time around...

We all deal with it differently.  Some of us do act like we are 15 again.  Boy (and I mean over 20) crazy, sexually adventurous, prone to emotional jags, hot flashes.  It is different to be clear, but it has many of the same hallmarks we survived the first time, barely.

Most of us do not know what is going on, at first.  Then we spend an insufferable amount of time living in that fresh hell.  And, just for fun, this whole shitshow plays out while we are at the pinnacle of parenting and our careers.  It is so nice to be crazy while the entire PTA and boardroom are watching.  So much fun!

I have never been able to decide if I like being called a cougar.  I mean, it is flattering to be considered part of the pack, I guess. I mean, I know there is a very short window before I become too old and then I do not even exist anymore.  I become invisible to society and men.  And I am no longer considered sexual and desirable.  There is no age this occurs.  But there is a line and none of us know exactly when we will cross it.

So I have never gotten comfortable with the cougar moniker.  I mean, to call myself that just feels arrogant.  But since others have referred to me in this way, I guess I fit the title.

I kind of like the idea of being on the hunt.  But having engaged in that behavior and “hunted” for the young bucks, I guess I have to own that I found them.  And it was fun.  Until it wasn’t.  It was a thrilling and short lived ride.  Kinda like one of those specialized roller coasters at an amusement park.  The thrill is rapid, fun and over quickly.  As opposed to those longer, more arduous ones that the ride lasts longer than 60 seconds.

Anyway, I guess I feel like I have resigned all my cougarness.  I am not running down young bucks anymore and I have no plans to restart that particular endeavor.  It was fun.  And now I have moved on. And cuberty was definitely a part of the whole cougar show.  The raging hormones causes you to very wantonly want.  Sex.  Attention.  More sex.  And then again, more sex.  It is kind of a cruel joke that we women hit our sexual primes at middle age. But I am sure that the whole cougar nation grew up for just that reason.  I mean if we are going to want to have sex the most we ever had in our lives, no longer restrained by the threat of pregnancy, teen judgment and our parent’s wrath, why the fuck not?

Again, it was fun.  But now I have moved on to the collecting cats instead of young bucks stage of life. Which I am pretty sure is station right before I become invisible and no longer sexually desirable.  And I will admit, I have mixed feelings about that.  It some ways it feels like a breath of air after holding my breath for about 45 years.  And in other ways, it feels unfair and wrong.  Mind you, I am writing this now in my bed at 5 am on a Saturday, in sweat pants, my hair in a messy bun,  wearing an old bathrobe and buried under a blanket of cats.  I might, perhaps, be further along than I thought...

I think cuberty is our last gasp as the over sexualized women we are required to be in this world.  Cuberty is our final nod to the establishment that defines female sexuality and beauty.  It is the final act right before we raise our middle fingers and tell the world to fuck right the fuck off and then go about living according to our own definitions of beauty, sex and grace.

Not every woman is a cougar and not everyone woman goes through cuberty.  But it is a phase for many of us.  And perhaps there are quite a few that would like to give a few young bucks a run for their money...but just have either more self esteem than I did or they are married, so the running down of the young bucks remains largely theoretical.

I can remember thinking this thought exactly when pursued by a younger man, “ummm, I mean he could be the last young hot guy that ever wants me.  This could be it for me!  I mean, how much longer do I really have to be attractive enough to land someone like him?  The window is rapidly closing and perhaps I want to kick those tires just one more time...”  And so I did.  I kicked a few tires, a few times, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, my time in cuberty is drawing to a close.  Fuck, let’s just be honest, it is over and done.  I have zero desire to go there again.  Not sorry I went there in the first place, but have no desire to live that particular fantasy again.  It was great and fun.  And now it is decidedly over.  And if I may grab a little arrogance here, I decided it was over.  I wasn’t relegated to crone phase.  I decided to move into crone all by myself.  And save some young bucks for my sisters in cougarship.

So now I sit, cuberty decidedly over, under my blanket of purring cats, wearing whatever the fuck I want, drinking coffee in my bed that is full of cats and a dog instead of men, drinking coffee in the dark and it is wonderful.  It isn’t better than my time in cougar town.  It is different and each have their relative merits and downsides.  This is why life has stages.  There are lessons to be learned, fun to be had and an ever present incentive to not get stalled out in whatever stage of life is happening for you now.  Here in earth school, there are stations of life between birth and death, and there is a lot of life to experience and I for one am glad I lived them all.  No regrets.  No apologies.  Just a great deal of gratitude that I was alive during a time when a 55 year old woman could engender and maintain (at least for a little while) the attention and affection of a young buck, or two...

And now, I can very happily say, not “again, still...” But instead, “still, again...”

Whew!  That was quite the ride!  And I am happy to have made it to the other side of cuberty! And, oh, the memories I have!

Again, still...