Am I a cougar, or just an old fart?

As I was driving in to work this morning, I was thinking of all sorts of things to write in today's blog about being old. I decided this topic was worth another discussion because I have changed my viewpoint slightly from a previous blog where I was trying to determine how old I really am. The stand I took was that we are as old as our children make us and since my daughter is 12, that makes me ... well ... old! And after spending a weekend of utter debauchery in Vancouver taking in some Olympic festivities, my body has proved to me that, yes indeed, I am old. This year, and this year alone, I have seen the signs, but I have never admitted them. But today, I'm letting it all hang out. I came to this realization after waking up on the couch at 5:15 this morning. And I had been there for over 12 hours! I got home from work at four yesterday afternoon and hit the couch immediately. I channel surfed to catch all the Olympic events for the entire night. And if anyone reading this doesn't already know ... Canada whooped Russia's ass in hockey ... something that hasn't been done in the Olympics in 50+ years. And to brag a little more about my country, 4 Canadian women won the Gold AND Silver medals in the bobsleigh event and Clara Hughes took the Bronze medal in the 5000m speed skating event .. but really, what kind of of Canadians would they be if they didn't place in those events? That is how us Canadians get around the streets of our frozen cities between September and May every year .... we've been training our whole lives ... at any rate, Congratulations ladies. Back to my point .... after watching 5 hours of Olympic events on TV last night, I was getting mighty tired. Too tired even to make it up to bed apparently because I woke up on the couch, fully clothed, lights & TV still on with a tiny blanket and no pillow. Now that's tired. I had an 8 hour sleep the night before and enough sleep prior to that after returning home from Vancouver ... so I thought. I did go hard in Vancouver, I wont try to deny that. I started the 12 hour drive from Calgary at 9pm Wednesday night with a coffee and Baileys (no, I was not the driver), continued with a beer in Canmore, 2 tall Strongbows, a nap, woke up for breakfast in Abbotsford, took another nap when we got to the condo, started drinking at about 3pm Thursday and didn't quit until we hit Kamloops on our way home Sunday night. I had a few hours of sleep each night in between (and even had some schnoo schnoo - Vancouver-style, thanks T-Bone) but apparently not enough. And it wasn't just us with kids that had a hard time keeping up, even the kid-less on our trip were wiped right the hell out when we got home. But if it takes 3 days to recover from 3 days of hard core partying, I do believe ladies & gentlemen, that makes us old! Again, I kinda figured it was getting to this point. Me and 3 girlfriends hit the Back Alley, a past favorite bar of ours, last February for a night of dancing and shooters. After being on the dance floor for just a few hours (maybe even just one), most of which was spent holding on to the railings catching our breath in the middle of every song, we looked around in horror as we noticed that the girls dancing on the speakers wearing next to nothing were closer in age to our daughters than they were to us. That, along with being called cougars by someone who looked 14 years old marked the end our night of dancing and doing shooters at the Back Alley. And speaking of cougars (another point I wanted to make when I started typing this out), I just read a blog by Single Soccer Mom, who I just started following yesterday, where she referred to women in their 30's as "cougars" ... now contrary to what I've just written today about being a tired old fart, cougar is a term that I refuse to accept. I haven't yet turned 31, so I'm barely in my 30's really. Mid to late 30's sounds about right to be called a cougar. wink wink. Or who knows, maybe it's a term I will never accept because I can't fit into the clothes I wore even last year, I don't accessorize, and I can't walk in high heels. I think a better term for me is "comfortably frumpy with a touch of class".

See .... classy ....