Milfs and Cookies

I did not particularly enjoy waking up this morning feeling as if someone had taken a hammer to my head and stuffed a wad of cotton in my mouth. Okay, I'm exaggerating. Two thirty a.m. doesn't really count as morning, and "waking up" implies some sort of workable consciousness, which a grown woman lying sprawled across the couch in her clothes probably does not possess.

At least I didn't have to worry about sleeping through my alarm and failing to pick my daughter up from an all night charity event at the high school at six. Two diet cokes and several caffeine laden Excedrins later, I managed to extract myself from my jeans and make my way up to bed, where I spent the next several hours watching the clock and wondering how people do this on a regular basis. A hangover is not all it's cracked up to be.

Eventually, I checked my email and thought I must be hallucinating. First, there was the weekly (or is it monthly?) teaser from a relatively new local magazine, highlighting a must-read article about an alleged controversy over the word "milf." Right after it, there was a cyberdating email from some buff looking thirty-year-old asking me if I'd like to chat. An odd coincidence, don't you think?

Anyway, I made sure I didn't go anywhere near a mirror so I could revel for at least a short time in what must be my "woman of a certain age beauty," and I indulged myself in a few I still got it self-satisfied smirks. I briefly considered reading my nubile admirer's profile, but I decided I didn't really have the stomach for checking out the stats of someone young enough to be my child.

So I clicked on the article about milfs, or, rather, the arguably offensive nature of the acronym. (If you don't know what it stands for, Google it; I'm way too classy to use that kind of language here.) Apparently, some women are appalled at the idea of being labeled something so vulgar, as the term, if taken literally, connotes some young guy's fantasy of, um, banging somebody else's mom. Frankly, I think it's downright sweet. I'll take "milf" any day, especially if it means prolonging my own fantasies of eternal youth just a bit longer.

But there are some aspects of youth on which I'll happily take a pass, like wasting an entire Sunday recovering from the alcohol abuse of Saturday night. There are lots of young men out there on a milf hunt, and I'm perfectly happy to get caught in the crosshairs (as long as they don't pull any triggers).