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.