My “Girl” Card Has Been Revoked
My twenties were a decade full of fullness, both productive and wasteful. I’m more often a “glass half full” kinda gal but I remember being relieved when I finally reached my 30th birthday. Although I had three children and a job which cared for our family quite well, the pangs of not being taken seriously lingered still in small ways. The ability to state “I am 30″ seemed like the perfect remedy.
And, it was. This may have been a self-fulfilling occurrence but I felt it. What is it about being 20-whatever that causes women to accept struggle and obstacles, especially when presented by another person? I’m not sure. As far as I was concerned, all that silliness was over for me. 30 was my armor and badge of honor to be worn proudly.
I continue to love this decade. I like what I’m learning. I like having a clearer vision of my worth. I like the occasional pity-card by the bouncer when I’m out with friends but I certainly don’t get pissed if it doesn’t happen. I mean, come on. There are several mirrors in my house.
There is no discouragement to my rosy outlook as I approach 40. My world is filled with a plethora of women who NATURALLY maintain a state of fabulous-ness. Reality recently decided to deliver a quick little swat to my mildly sagging backside, however. Funny thing is that it happened shortly after one of those sweet little pity-cards.
Saturday night was deemed “Girls’ Dance Night” and I was in. I have a few pieces of clothing which spend a great deal of time making my closet look tres chic. Lest these pieces fall into an overwhelming sadness due my disregard, I welcome the chance to gussy up and take them out into the world. Even peep toe shoes like a little time on the dance floor, no?
After meeting up with my lovely lady friends and toasting to our night, we make our way to the designated den of music and booty-shaking. Immediately, the majority of the group was shakin “what your mama gave ya’”. Two others and I made the rounds to find a home base and get settled. I have found that a little warm-up time is required before the need to move hits me.
After a round of assessing the evening attire of complete strangers, my two companions were off. Voyeurism is a favorite pastime so I sat contentedly observing my surroundings: not necessarily making eye contact or feeling any sense of awkwardness to be a singular Vodka sipper. Who needs conversation when Grey Goose L’orange is mingling so nicely with ice?!
Suddenly, there is a man (loosely used term) standing to my side. The poor tipsy fool begins what he thought was a conversation. It seems that he missed the day in Comm Arts 101 when the instructor explained the need for two participants. Judging by his age, it may have been the day prior.
Man-type continues to attempt engagement while I continue to not. I notice another young un’ approaching. This is my out as the two are clearly friends. I shoot my best “please take care of your drunk buddy” look. Imagine my relief when Man-type 2 quickly moves in and gives his comrade a very masculine back pat. “Yes!”, I think. “I’m saved.” Au contraire, wise one.
Man-type two gives me a huge alligator grin and promptly explains, “We’re Cougar hunters.”
Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
In three small words are contained a bigger dose of reality than I have swallowed in ages, or maybe ever. Knowing I have exhibited no behavior which would lead these embryos to think that I am prowling, I am left to ponder how such an assessment could be made. I am drowning in visions of Housewives of the O.C. and Liza Minelli.
My response was merely “I’m not a Cougar.” Dumbfoundedness had struck. Later, my thoughts turned to witty, immasculating phrases that I shoulda, woulda, coulda. Next time (please, God, no), I will be viciously well-prepared. This time, not so much.
So, what have I learned? “Girl” means not me. Guess what. Yay! Another layer has fallen away to reveal a new understanding. Of course I don’t look like a 25-year-old. I’m not 25. Do I look like a 38-year-old? It seems that I do. Why would this be a problem for me? I am privileged to know things that I couldn’t have possibly known before this very day.
What about “Girls Night”? A new term is in order. I turn for guidance to the words of one of my favorite women, Lena Horne. She once said, “You have to be taught to be second class; you’re not born that way.” From this day forward, I will be a willing participant of “First Class Night”. 
Pete Johnson said,
March 9, 2010 at 2:47 pm
I would be tremendously flattered to be hit on by some hot young things. If that is the worst thing to happen to you lately, you really have it good.
KATE said,
March 9, 2010 at 4:30 pm
Ah, come on, you know that YOU’RE ONE HOT KITTY!!
I’m laughing myself silly right now–oh, those four words have never had such a delightful impact.
chris said,
March 9, 2010 at 8:41 pm
Oh Girl. Flattering and deflating and, well, empowering all at once. I’m with you, loving this age. Life is good. { Cougar hunters. phflfftttt. }
Laura said,
March 9, 2010 at 8:48 pm
awesome! I love it! Keep it coming!!
Jill B. said,
March 9, 2010 at 9:29 pm
oh, that’s good. It kind of reminds me of a scene from 1990′s tv show “Wings” – where a delivery guy calls Helen (Crystal Bernard) “Ma’am”, and she and Alex get all bent out of shape and tell him “you will call us babe, or chick, or honey, and you WILL check out our asses as we walk away”…..
So – even though I’m fine with young’uns calling me ma’am, and I have no desire to be hit on by cougar hunters (? seriously?), I do sometimes like the thought that the occasional random male might check out my ass as I walk away and not be too disappointed.
Kristie Roetto-Oh said,
March 9, 2010 at 9:53 pm
Great Blog Terra! I was just talking to some girlfriends about how easy becoming thirty was, but how scary forty has seemed. Considering the only other option for me is death, I’ve decided forty rocks!!!! Especially since forty is the new thirty
LiBo said,
March 9, 2010 at 10:04 pm
Brilliant! I want to hear more!
Megan said,
March 9, 2010 at 10:04 pm
As mentioned above, that was a masterful application of STFU. *applause*
Wow. So we’re cougar aged. I somehow thought you had to be older, but I know that the students I work with probably think I’m “old.” Meh–happier now than I was then, so ppphhhhtttttt!
Christy said,
March 9, 2010 at 10:52 pm
Absolutely love the story. When I go out for a “ladies night out” I must admit a little male attention would be just fine. But honestly being called a “cougar” would be a true shock to my self-esteem. I share your attitude towards the men I encounter though…they are all babies at ANY age. So I’d take the “cougar” title I guess. F*** ‘em.
megan c said,
March 10, 2010 at 7:29 am
Ouch. That was fucking hilarious.
First rule of cougar hunting – don’t tell the cougar she’s a fucking cougar.
About being older and wiser: I now no longer waste money on lipstick or nail polish because I know, after YEARS of experience, that I am never, ever going to use either.
I’m simply not that kind of “girl”.
Kristy said,
March 10, 2010 at 8:13 am
Glad to see you sharing your writing
That was great! I can’t believe they actually told you they were cougar hunting. That line had me laughing out loud! I look forward to more!
Michele said,
March 10, 2010 at 9:19 am
Love It!!!!!! Keep the blogs coming.
April said,
March 10, 2010 at 10:09 am
Big thumbs up! Thanks for a good laugh.
Sunny said,
March 10, 2010 at 10:16 am
Boys can be so dumb! Love it, I live it….
Lori Arbeitman said,
March 10, 2010 at 3:16 pm
Its a bummer when our busy lives finally allows us to have a “girls night” and because we dress up(which we never have the chance to) we are called a cougar. But lets face it Terra, your beautiful inside and out so get used to it!
Bravo on the blog, cant wait to read more!
heather sparks heuston said,
March 11, 2010 at 3:18 pm
no way!! that is so funny. i think when you really think about it, and get over the shock, it is a complement. if i wasn’t married i would be a proud cougar. besides, they could have said they lost a bet or something. thanks for making me laugh. i miss you!!!!
merrie said,
March 11, 2010 at 4:26 pm
Right on Mama! FIRST CLASS NIGHT COLORADO begins the day you come out her eto visit! Chilling the GreyGoose NOW in anticipation! I hope to see updates in my inbox often, your post is awesome!
Keep me on speed dial next time you need sum immasculating phrases…seems I be a pro! hahaha. lurv
Auntie Kate said,
March 11, 2010 at 5:35 pm
HILARIOUS!!
Mom said,
March 12, 2010 at 11:52 am
Great post! Great comments! I am lovin’ this.
Lauren said,
March 13, 2010 at 6:46 pm
Terra, I am a high school friend of your mother’s and she was kind enough to send me your post. I giggled all the time I was reading this and thinking 40 is still so young so just wait young lady I bet they will still be checking you out at 50. It’s delightful to get a sense of you Terra since I have never met you and am so very fond of your mother. Write on. . .
Day said,
March 16, 2010 at 10:18 am
Love it! When’s your next post?