Middle age has its distinct disadvantages, but there are some distinct advantages to be had for the cougar/geezer set that most people don’t think about.
1. No one asks (begs, coerces, etc.) you to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. This is a very beautiful thing, considering the last time I had to do that was in 1993 , and I’m still pissed at my oldest sister for that outlay of cash and aggravation.
No, I’m NOT wearing that- or any other dress without sleeves. Ever.
At my advanced age I don’t have to worry about it. Nobody in her right mind wants my freaky ass in her wedding pictures. My sisters are the only ones who didn’t let me decline the bridesmaid thing graciously. One has been married since 1993 (thank God because there is no amount of coercion that will make me do the bridesmaid thing again- ever) and the other is happily divorced. Anyone else who makes that request, I can and will tell to go blow with impunity, but my friends pretty much know better than to ask. I’ll gladly attend your wedding and even buy you crap, (or get you a Target gift card,) but that’s the extent of my involvement.
2. Aunt Flo doesn’t visit any more. Not since the hysterectomy. I couldn’t be more delighted with that.
Hot flashes suck- but I can wear white pants any time I want!
3. Older people have a certain amount of gravitas in dealings with the young and inexperienced. I also have buff young college boys asking me if I need help with my groceries. I don’t need help with my groceries, though it would be nice when I get home with them if Jerry didn’t disappear every time I’m unloading the car.
I already brought in the cat litter, dog food, beer, (which I don’t drink) and 12 packs of pop.
Come to think of it, I don’t shit in the cat litter or eat the dog food either, but they don’t have thumbs.
Granted, nobody bothers to send me flowers but I have no idea what to do with them. They sit on my desk for a few days, die, and then I throw them out.
Just give me the cash.
Back in the day there was no such thing as political correctness in the clothing industry. We can all remember when fat boys’ clothes were called “Husky.” I don’t think they have “Husky” sizes any more.
Even Lane Bryant doesn’t use the “Chubby” word anymore, even when referring to size Extreme Lard Ass.
Imagine the politically correct furor that would ensue should any clothier use an ad like the one pictured above. Stand back and watch the fireworks. However, in the 1950’s virtually nobody was fat, so this ad would only apply to a handful of girls rather than most of them.
I say just make everything a one-size-fits-all mu-muu if your ass is that huge.