Thursday, March 25, 2010


The closer I get to 40, the more I loathe Courteney Cox Arquette. I'm sure she's a lovely person, but as my birthday looms (yes, expect me to be obsessed with this for a while), she's my worst nightmare - excluding the one I had about Krispy Kreme going out of business, that is.

Thanks to Arquette and the success of Cougar Town, women of certain, ahem, ages are supposed to get all cougar-fied and look like this:

Are you effin' kidding me, Courteney? That's a lot of work! Are we sure this is progress for womankind? 'Cause maybe some days I'd rather look like this:

Look: I've spent a good 25 years taking great pains with my appearance. Just when I thought it was safe to put down the tweezers and embrace my natural unibrow, I get Courtney, Halle Berry, Jennifer Aniston and all the other fabulous over-40 bitches telling me I can't, lest I bring down the rest of the cougar pride.

Ain't right, y'all.

Case in point:

While grocery shopping yesterday, a very attractive woman pushed her cart in front of me. She sported a trendy, fashionable top, snug designer jeans and adorable wedge sandals. Her hair was styled in a chic cut with perfect highlights. If I estimated her age from her backside, I'd guess she was in her early 20s, at most. But then she slowly turned around… dunDuNDUN….and she looked like this:

It's ridiculous! Who are we kidding? Do we really look younger with these gimmicks, or do we merely look like old(er) women trying to look younger?

Every day, more and more of my peers are going under the knife and/or injecting themselves with Botox and fillers (I don't know what is in the fillers, but I suspect it's the same stuff they put in Twinkies, so I'll just eat Twinkies instead). The point is, instead of looking like older women, they look like older women who have had work done. Is that an improvement?

Not to say I'm not depressed about some of the changes I see in the mirror every day. I would like my upper lip back when I smile, please. I could do without those wrinkles around my eyes and that hollowed out neck. I'm not real fond of the new super curly white hairs cropping up there (and egads!, down there). And if anyone can recommend a good trainer who specializes in elbow and knee toning, kindly pass me his or her number…

Still, I want to start an anti-cougar revolution. At 40, we should be allowed to relax. Let's wear the sweatpants with the elastic bands at the bottom! Let's give ourselves haircuts at home! Let's toss out our ridiculously overpriced anti-aging products and embrace our frumpy, older selves! Who is with me - besides Whoopi Goldberg and Rosie O'Donnell?

Sigh. That's what I thought.

So if you'll excuse me, I no longer have time to work on this blog. I have to fork out $1100 for .2 ounces of anti-wrinkle cream made from unicorn blood; make an appointment with Heidi Montag's plastic surgeon; call the elbow/knee toning trainer; raid my teen-age daughter's wardrobe; touch up my roots; pluck the grays; wax my mustache (er, not that I have one); spray on a fake tan; and spackle my face.

Thanks, Courteney. Thanks a hell of a lot.

Please tell me I can relax at 50?

1 comment:

  1. The cricket? Now that was funny. I totally got it.

    Oh, and you're hilarious.