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Could We Just Not......Another Over the Hill Gal Talks About Menopause

 I was never afraid of menopause until I was in it.  Oh, sure I had heard about it my whole life.  I had seen how it seemed to affect women.....mostly in negative ways, depending on who you asked.  It's now very clear to me why many marriages break up around the time of menopause, why affairs seems to happen more often (on both sides) and why seemingly "normal" women seem to lose their minds. 


In the mid 80's when The Golden Girls "Blanche" began menopause, her friends urged her to a psychiatrist.  This was after she first thinks she's pregnant, then begins eating and crying non-stop and refusing to get dressed or leave her room.  

Oh, if we all only had that luxury.  And if it all came on that sudden and succinct.  No guess work. Is it peri?  Are the hormones completely gone yet?  No wondering if the cycle was really over of if it was going to play tricks on you for the next 5 years or so. If only it was all so very black and white, cut and dry.

But it's not.

It's guesswork and premonition.  It's tracking and figuring and reading and researching.  It's chatting with other women and comparing symptoms, remedies and stories of ludicrous behavior.  It's asking yourself repeatedly "was that a hot flash?" when it's 98 degrees outside.  It's asking yourself where you left your keys and what's your mother's maiden name.  It's wondering if all the things that ever bothered you in your marriage are real issues or hyperblown at the moment.  It's asking yourself if you've been the best kind of mother, daughter, sister your entire life. It's the constant scary question of "is that all there is?" that streams through your conscience enough to make you laugh and cry. 


And some of it is humorous and relatable.  On Leanne Morgan's sitcom, she has a hot flash on a first date, an absolutely HILARIOUS thing to happen, I can tell you from first-hand experience.  Especially if you're on a date with a younger man.  (True Story!)

A lot of it is much less funny.  Like when your memory fails you on something simple and you're convinced you're experiencing early Alzheimer's, a predicament even more scary when your mother actually is in the early stages of it. Or when you consider the numbers of women you know whose husbands left them right as they began to act "insane" or when they discovered various cancer diagnoses.  Yes, these topics are laugh riots for sure.

And I'll admit it, it does make you sad.  It makes you miss your perfect butt and awesome legs that you had for the whole of the 90's even if you didn't know it.  Does it make you seek to bring back that male attention you once had?  OF COURSE IT DOES.  And I do believe that is something men and women have in common even if no one claims it. Men buying sports cars and getting hair transplants has always been a cute joke.  A women grasping for her youthful sexuality just looks slutty.  There.  I said what nobody wants to say out loud.

And yes, I know, I KNOW that men will say they go through something similar.  But from what I've read it's much more gradual and thus less noticeable.  And from my extensive research, men seem to mainly worry about two things as they get older: going bald and going limp.  I've never heard ANY OF THEM about whether or not they're having breakthrough bleeding or forgetting their kids names.  Never. 


But I think the other thing that's different for us from men is the inability to actually age in peace.  Yeah, it's great.....we're living longer, having babies at older ages, keeping our sexuality past the age of 35.....but when do we get to slow down and just......I don't know.....age gracefully?

I decided to let my hair go grey a few years ago.  It has been a subtle and gradual process, but I've been amazed at how many friends told me I was brave.

I mean.....brave?  For letting my hair be it's natural color?  That's bravery these days?


I grapple with the double standards every day because some days I do feel awesome, young and sexy.  I understand now how so many older people say they still feel young in their minds even if their bodies say different.  In my heart, I still want to go to the summer music festival and stay up all night or have drinks at alt-90's night at the clerb.  But my body knows I can't.  And when I try, I disappoint myself and whoever made the mistake of inviting me.

And don't even get me started on the "you go, girl" culture that seems to never end.  It applies to clothes, makeup, dating, travel.....all of it.  And some of you girls will STILL keep going.  And you'll probably go FOREVER.  You'll be the belles of the ball at the old folks home.  But even then you'll have some old biddy making you feel bad about dressing "too young".  Because yeah.....all of that never really ends.  

But I also hate the way the culture works so hard to make us feel EVEN older.....as if that was possible.  If you're still swinging on a stripper pole (and want to) have at it, sister!  But do I have to do that?  Can I stay over here aging gracefully with my grey hair and heavy thighs and bad up-close vision? 




(And I know I've spoken a lot about hot flashes in particular, but this is a symptom that can't go without notice.  And no I HAVE NOT heard of a male equivalent.  Hot flashes aren't just feeling hot.  They make you think you're dying, having a heart attack, having an actual physical meltdown.  They ruin your hair, your makeup and your exquisitely chosen wardrobe.  They make you unable to ever wear a cute sweater or heavy coat again.  They are life ruiners.  They are THE WORST.)

I'm not looking for any sympathy or really any understanding other than my own.  Women say we don't talk about menopause enough, but I think we do.  It's just that the conversations are all WRONG.  Everyone keeps telling us we're fabulous no matter what we do!  You still look young!  I would never guess you were (fill in the blank) age!  

Guess what, y'all?  I don't want any of that!  I'm officially over it!  I want to sit in my comfortable house (set at 68 degrees at all times) in my cozy jammies with my sitcoms, paperback novels and the only man I can tolerate, my 24 year-old son!

Stop trying to make me younger.  Stop trying to make me feel better.  Stop cajoling me.  Just. Stop.

Could you just make me feel, I don't know, seen?  Could you stop interrupting me when I speak?  Could you stop denigrating my experience?  Could you stop trying to sell me things to keep me young or push me over to granny status?  Could you maybe just let me decide where I am on that particular spectrum? 

And could you maybe turn up the telly and turn down the thermostat on your way out?  I'm kinda into just being me over here.  Thanks, byeeeeee. 
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