Menopausal Musing #27

Hot flashes and global warming – just like me, the earth is getting tired and bitchy.

Simple Ways To Help Ease Menopausal Symptoms – Part 2

Learn something new

Get out and explore the world

Smile

Get organized

Ignore it until it goes away

Think of someplace cool

See the beauty in life

Go crazy every now and then - sanity is highly over-rated.

Hormones Linked With Kidney Stones in Older Women

Here's a link to an interesting article regarding hormones and kidney stones (and no, I did not mean to write that in the style of Dr. Seuss!) Thanks for the info, Liz.

http://www.salon.com/wires/health/2010/10/11/D9IPMPPO0_us_med_hormones_kidney_stones/index.html

Break Out

A skin eruption of gi-normous proportions has taken up residence on my face. I think it's from the glue on the nasal strips I use at night for my allergies (okay, snoring). The breakout is so large I'm sure it needs its own zip code. In honor of this moment I'm posting an essay I wrote years ago about a similar issue my mother had. Adult acne - ain't it grand?

Beauty and the Breach

“Hold your breath now,” my mother said as she sprayed a shower of White Rain over her bouffant.  When it was safe to uncover my face and breathe again I asked, “Where are you going?”  “A Lady May* party,” she answered.

“What’s that?”  “Well, my friend, Susan is having a party at her house and a woman from Lady May cosmetics will be there and we will all get to put on make-up and learn which products are right for our skin and which ones will bring out our true beauty.”

“Oh.”  She lost me.  I was too young to care about make-up so I went off to do my homework.

The next morning at breakfast, I noticed several jars lined up on the table. I sensed she was anxious to show off her purchases.  “Is this your new make-up?” 

“Yes,” she floated over to the table with her arm outstretched like a game show hostess, “the first three jars are the three step system:  cleanse, tone and moisturize.”  “Eeeeew, it smells like old lady perfume!”  She ignored me in favor of the sales spiel.

“I also bought the foundation, eye shadow, rouge, mascara and lipstick.”  I wondered why she bought all the make-up.  My mother had never worn make-up since I’d known her and that was my entire life. 

She scooped up all her new cleansing products and placed them in order of use in the medicine cabinet.  The make-up went into the drawer below the sink and that was the official start of my mother’s new beauty routine:  cleanse, tone, moisturize and colorize.

She became a new woman, a born again Lady May convert.  Her skin began to glow with a newfound luster and when she wore a full face of make-up she looked like a beauty queen.  There was a spring in her step.  She looked and felt so beautiful right up until the day my Dad asked, “What’s that?” pointing at her forehead.  “What?” my mother tensed and ran to look in the mirror.  “Oh,” her terror subsided as she gave a little titter, “they told us this might happen.  It’s just a little pimple,” she said as she ran her fingers over the bump above the bridge of her nose.  “It’s the impurities working their way out of my skin that’s all.”  So she continued her new beauty regimen: cleanse, tone, moisturize and colorize.

Each day the impurities continued to surface and they all seemed to be going to that one spot.  We tried to be polite and not stare directly at the eruption but it was really hard not to.  Every time you talked to her, there it was again gaining size and impurities.  I began getting anxious about having conversations with my mother.  I’d ask, “Daddy, can I go out and play with Chris?”  And he’d reply, “Go ask your mother.”  “Daddy please don’t make me.  You go ask her.”  “No way.”  

My mantra during that time became the same one I was taught in school for an eclipse “don’t stare directly into it.”  I wondered in silence if it would be safe to look at the eruption through a pinhole in a shoebox.  I feared the pimple might hypnotize me in some way as if it had a mind of its own. . .a very devious mind.  What if it made me grow up to join the band of crazed Lady May followers?  I feared a loss of control over my own mind.

Once the pimple reached gargantuan proportions my mother was forced to seek new methods to rid herself of what had become her unwanted “growth.”  The Lady May spell had finally been broken.  I said a silent prayer of thanks.  Mother lay on the bed with a warm washcloth over the alien being growing out of her forehead while my father, always the one to comfort in times of crisis yelled, “Hey kids, get in here and take a look at your mother’s third eye.”  My two younger brothers and I gathered around the bed for a closer look.  It was certainly a solemn occasion.  Should someone call a priest?  Wait a minute; we were Southern Baptists perhaps a snake handler then.  My heart began pounding at the thought of the unveiling.  My mother peeled away the warm washcloth and there it was, the world’s largest pimple.  She couldn’t even sit up it was giving her such a headache.  I gasped in spite of myself and took a step backward almost knocking over my youngest brother.  “Hey, watch it I’m trying to get a good look.”

“Can you tell the future with that third eye?”  Geez, Dad had absolutely no pity.  “Get out,” my mother yelled completely missing the humor in the situation.  She covered the pimple with the warm cloth and rolled toward the wall.  Dad ushered us out of the room and told us to stay away from her for a while.  “Yeah, well you’re the one who started it with the whole third eye thing.”  We had to cover our mouths to keep from busting out laughing.

It was several weeks before my mother felt confident enough to leave the house again.  Her forehead healed over nicely and there remained no sign of the malevolent eruption.  Except for the occasional swipe of lipstick my mother has never worn make-up again.  And as far as the three step cleansing system, well, that went straight in the garbage before anyone else could ask if she could see into the future.

*Name changed, of course.

Man-o-pause – It’s All Too Real

The other day I loaned $10 to a kid in my neighborhood. He needed to pay the guy who was driving him to work. This kid doesn’t have a car or a high school diploma but what he does have is a girlfriend and newborn baby so I thought I could help him out even though I didn’t have much in the way of cash.

He says, “I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” which surprised me because I didn’t really think he’d pay me back. I was right. Several days passed and no money. But then I started thinking about that saying, “If you loan someone money and never see them again, it was probably worth it.”

I was walking my dogs one night when all of a sudden this kid is running down the street yelling and trying to catch up to me.

“Hey,” he said out of breath and hiking up his pants which are always falling down even when he wears a belt. 

“Sorry I never paid you back but I got hit in the head with a hammer.” For someone who never graduated high school I thought this explanation showed extreme creativity. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Well my boss didn’t want to pay me, maybe he didn’t think I did a good job, but I said, “Hey man I’ve got a baby to take care of and I really need that money.” Then he hit me and I hit him back and then he pulled a hammer and hit me in the head. I called the police but they said I couldn’t press charges because I hit him back.”

To which I replied, “Well yeah, but not with a lethal weapon.” It was at that point I decided the boss had to be middle aged. Who else but a man-o-pausal maniac goes after a young kid with a hammer?

Working in the corporate sector for 20 years, I’ve had my share of performance reviews and I’m happy to say they all went well – exceedingly well compared to this situation. Never once did a superior pull a hammer on me – much less hit me in the head with it.

“Wow,” I said, “that guy has anger issues.”

“Yeah, but I’ll get your money in the next week or so”.

If there are two things this experience taught me it’s that (1) man-o-pause and hand tools don’t mix and (2) I'm never getting my money back.

Simple Ways To Help Ease Menopausal Symptoms – Part 1

Get regular massages

Treat yourself to a nap

Get together with friends

Meditate

Eat well

  

Don’t worry so much

Exercise and play

Do something nice for someone else

Menopausal Musings

“So this is what I have to look forward to?” I knew it was wrong to end a sentence, even when it was a question, with a preposition but at this point I didn’t give a crap. I attended a lecture about menopause at the local YMCA and left feeling really bad about being a woman. If the best thing you can say about it is “Well you won’t have your period anymore” then something ain’t right. OK, I admit they told me I could eat dark chocolate but I’m pretty sure it’s not meant to be eaten in the quantities I consume. Still, it was a small comfort.

The nurse giving the talk said a good indication for us is the age our mothers went through menopause. So I went directly to my mother to ask her in person. “When I was 50 years old, my period stopped and that was it.” Was I hearing her correctly? In the history of menopause I doubt anyone’s had it this easy. “You didn’t have any hot flashes or night sweats or homicidal thoughts?” “Nope, nothing. It just stopped.” I’ve relived this conversation in my head many times and wondered if my mother was telling me the truth or if she didn’t want to pour water on the seed of negativity in my brain.

Before turning 50 I bought the economy size of every feminine product I use and said to myself, “Well that’s the last time I’m going to have to buy that!” Now I’ve switched to smaller packs as kind of a reverse psychology experiment. So far it’s not working.

Maybe there really is a biological clock and it works kind of like the clocks that require batteries. Once the battery gets low the clock will sometimes speed up and then slow down until it stops altogether. Talking to my biological clock is like talking on the phone to a boyfriend or best friend in high school. “You hang up. “No YOU hang up.” “No you …” “OK, let’s hang up on three. One … two … three.” Breathing on the other end. “Are you still there?” “Yeah.” My body is unpredictable now. I have a friend who says “I don’t even know myself anymore” and I can relate to that statement only too well.

There are differences between my mother and me. She had three children I’ve had none. She didn’t have menopausal symptoms in her late twenties and I did. So when you take a bunch of little things and add them up, maybe your mother isn’t a good indicator of what you can expect for menopause after all. The journey is your own.

Here, my mother and I take a whiff from the tree of withered youth.