The Best Kept Secret Blog - The Cougar Is Dead, Long Live The Cougar

In Tuesday's edition of the Toronto Star, Josey Vogels and Li Robbins declared cougars - as in older women looking for love (or a one night stand) in all the young places - an endangered species. They based their opinion on several man-on-the-street interviews.

If they're right, I've got to let some of my cougar friends know that they had better crawl right back into their dens because their hunting days are numbered. That's right - I know a cougar or two.

One friend in her mid-40's simply prefers men who are eight to ten years younger than her. She's been known to fudge/falsify - okay lie - about her age on her on-line dating profile so her name pops up when 35 year old men search for "women under 45".

Why does she prefer younger men? In her opinion, they're more ambitious, still go getter's, not as set in their ways as men closer to her age. And that appeals to her.

Some other 40-something friends likes young guys but due to slightly less complex reasons. They're attracted to the hot bods of youth. And you know, who can blame them? These women work out, look great and take good care of themselves. It's important to them.

How do the men respond? Well, judging by how things are going for my friends, pretty darn well.

The cougar cliché that Vogels and Robbins referred to isn't that far off. You could describe the cougars I know as "man-eating" (but only certain parts), "randy" (definitely), and "heaving-cleavaged" - (yes but only when they wear their good bras).

Maybe the men on the street were just jealous.

The Best Kept Secret Blog - Take Back The M Word

I find it amusing the way marketers are tripping all over themselves to come up with a name for us. I've heard Prime Time Women, Boomer Girls, Fabulous and Forty to name just a few. My own web site talks about women 40+ and The Toronto Star's Josey Vogels and Li Robbins who write the column Adventures in Aging refer to themselves as "writers of a certain age". And in The Globe and Mail, KarenVon Hahn devoted an entire column to alternative terms for "middle-aged".

Why such a struggle to find a handle for us? Because savvy marketers have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on focus groups to learn that women our age don't like being called "middle-aged".

I could have saved them the money. I found this out quickly enough in my kitchen when I was standing around with a group of friends and told them I was going to start a web-site for middle-aged women. I almost had five cups of coffee splashed in my face.

I listened to them rant as only women who are fired up can rant. And because I'm nice in a Mary Richards kind of way I made appropriately supportive gestures and murmurs.

But secretly, I've got to tell you, I don't mind the term. That's what I am - middle aged. I am 45 years old and unless someone forgot to tell me that a Canadian female's life expectancy is now 120, I'm middle-aged.

I'm finished with the stuff of youth - growing up, having kids, establishing my career. I'm not ready for the stuff of age - time to travel, sensible shoes, soft foods. I'm in the middle - children at home, aging parents, changing body.

It's the associations the word conjures up that bugs everyone. At the top of a peak after a long, long climb and it's only downhill from here.

Well, I aim to take back the word, make it a good thing, no, a great thing. Something we all aspire to be - even the men.

My name is Karen and I am a middle aged woman.

The Best Kept Secret Blog - Adult Orphans

I saw my friend B recently at the grocery store. When I asked her how she'd been, she replied, "Not too well. My dad died a couple of weeks ago. I feel like an orphan."

My mind flew to an incident that happened to me 15 years earlier. My mother died when I was eleven. Just before I turned 30, my father passed away. Shortly after my dad's funeral, I ran into an acquaintance I hadn't seen for several years.

As I recounted my recent, sad news, he responded, "You're an orphan now." And then he laughed at his perceived wit - as if only children can be orphans. Not grown ups. I started to cry.

It's always hard to lose a parent but losing your last parent can set off a seismic shift in your life. No matter how old, how accomplished or how connected you are, you feel abandoned, you feel lost. The one role you've known for your entire existence is suddenly stripped away - you are no longer someones child.

I experienced another emotion when my dad died that I was ashamed to fess up to - relief. Part of me thought, "Finally, I can live my life without comment or criticism."

Now, my dad was my biggest supporter but, like any child, I knew what pleased him and what didn't. And every time I made a significant choice or decision, in the back of my mind I wondered, "What will Dad think?" Even though I was all grown up, I still wanted to please him.

I gave B a hug and tried my best to listen and not on-up her with my tales of grief and mourning. But I couldn't resist telling her a few things . . .

Grieving takes a long time. The first year is especially hard as we go through all the firsts (first birthday, first summer, first Christmas) without the person we've lost.

I still see my dad from time to time when a particular expression flits a cross my daughter's face. It's nice.

And, as corny as this sounds, we carry in us the years of love, support, advice and wisdom our parents give us. My dad can no longer comment or criticise, but he still exerts an influence over my choices and actions. And I, in turn, will pass this legacy on to my children. In this sense, he does live on.

The Best Kept Secret Blog - Am I Too Old For This - Part II

Well, the dress is going back. You know, the dress from The Gap that I wondered if I was too old to wear?

We're going out for dinner tomorrow night and I thought, "Hey, perfect occasion. I'll give it a go." So I put it on and preened for myself in front of the mirror. Big mistake.

I don't know what I was thinking when I bought it but looking at it now, I remembered that I had once previously owned a dress that was very similar - in Grade 9.

I attempted to "dress it up" with some suede boots. This did make me and the dress take on a slightly more mature look. Now I looked like I was trying to be 20.

Maybe if I added a funky jean jacket. Now I just looked funny.

My husband came in the room and I asked him how I looked. Typically, this question causes him to freeze in fear as his eyes dart about, looking for the nearest exit. I new it was bad when he unequivocally said it looked ridiculous.

So, back it goes. I now know what I shouldn't be wearing but I'm still not sure what I should be wearing.

The Best Kept Secret Blog - Am I Too Old For This? - Part I

I have just bought a new dress and it has put me into a fit of despair. Okay, maybe despair is too strong but definitely a state of self-doubt.

Why? Because I bought it at The Gap - the store that teenagers, twenty-somethings and my tall ten year old shop at. Because maybe I'll wear it sometime and run into an eighteen year old with a nose ring and purple hair who is also wearing it and won't we look like a pair standing side by side. Because I've been shopping at The Gap for more than 20 years and maybe it's time to move on.

I keep turning around, getting both the front and back views. Leaning over. Sitting down. Imagining which shoes to wear it with. Telling myself that it's fine, it's a classic, I can accessorize.

I know, I know. Most of you are saying it doesn't matter. As long as it's not too short or too low cut it's fine. If I like it, wear it. And I would give all of you the same advice.

But lately I've been thinking about what we always read in magazines about our hair. You know what I mean - if you've had the same hair style since high school (or for the last 10 years) it's time for an update.

Well, doesn't that apply to clothes? My "look" for all of my adult life has been jeans, cute tops and shoe that make my heart sing.

I recently went to a movie with a dear friend who's around my age. She had on black slacks (isn't that a lovely, old fashioned word?), a black shirt and great accessories. I had on my "uniform". She looked great and I felt schleppy. I felt like a teenager wannabe and not a grown up woman.

So maybe it's time to re-think my look. I'll keep you posted.