Mom wants to read the blog (without knowing what "cougar" means)

My mother knows I’ve been in a good mood lately…that I’ve found “an outlet” for all of “my writing stuff.” And she’s asked to read this “blog thing,” several times.

If you’ve read any of my posts thus far, you’ll understand why I haven’t been forthcoming with the link. Finally- an email commanding me to send it to her (in CAPS of course.. as you will see I’ve inherited this skill). The conversation, via email, went like this:

Email # 1:

Email #2:
Send me instructions how to get in ? ema

From Cougel, to Mom:

From Cougel (giving mom proper context):
by the way, a “cougar” is a popular term in pop culture now for women over 40, attractive, independent, who go after younger men… it started derogatory but now its not.. it’s like demi moore.

From Mom:
its cute.
i like it.
can i go on it and add more?

From Cougel to Mom:
Ur so cute! U can comment. At bottom of each story there should be, in gray, “comments” and a box will open for u to write whatever u want. What do u want to add?

From Mom:
I have to think about it. The world reads them ???
Did you eat dinner ?

Every Cougel needs a fur for the winter

In my parents attempt to “dress me up nice,” they came into the city to take me out for dinner and offered to buy me some new “classy” clothes. My dad smiled and shook his finger at me, “No more of this rock and roll, college look, it’s attracting the wrong guys.”

By wrong guys, I’m pretty sure my dad meant “boys, in their 20s, who can’t take care of you like I can.” Meaning, if you’re going to stop dating young cubs, and start attracting older (aka established aka rich) men, well then it’s time to shed those frayed Cougel layers (shmatas) and put on outerwear that’s more upscale. “Especially in the winter, when you live in New York, and your coat is all people see. You need a fur coat.”

Well, how could I argue with them? It makes my parents happy to help out, to find a way to take care of me, now that I don’t need the help any longer. I wouldn’t want to deny them of the pleasure.

Besides, doesn’t every cougel need a good fur?

My mom got right on it. Now that she’s learned how to google (I know, it rhymes with cougel… and yes, I already tried to google “cougel” and nothing shows up, not even this blog) she can find wholesalers in the garment district by the hundreds. She can also email her friends, who now also have email, and who have birthed their own little cougels and bought furs for them too (at a discount, of course). I love my mother. I love her even more now that she knows how to email me, and that sometimes she mixes Hebrew in with her broken English. And I love that she’s thankfully figured out how to keep only the things she wants to make sure I hear in CAPS, rather than yelling at me the whole time.

So after this dinner with my parents, after my dad paid the bill and we put on our coats (my shabby fake fur one that I bought 2nd hand on the lower east side, which prompted my mom to shield her eyes), it was decided. An hour later, when my parents got home, she sent me this email:

* Spoke to Rivi, about furs. she bought for Tamar, at Lord and Talyor, a cashmere long coat. she gave me a name of an whole saler fur store. in the 20’s the name is MOHL fURS. THEY HAVE A SALE .
i will check it on the web.
Love, Ema *

I have yet to get to this fur store. I’m putting it off, hoping that spring will come around and I can wait until next year. When I can afford to buy one for myself. Or, acknowledge the truth. That I don’t really want one. That expensive, real, fur coats just “aren’t me,” and get up the gutts to tell my parents. And break their hearts.

Tough call. What would you do?