Let's Talk About Our Changing Bodies!
Sweat with me, young fertile goddess. It ain't all bad!
I shed 2.5 pounds and have never felt lighter! I’m literally ascending to the pinnacle of middle-aged lady enlightenment as I write this.
A major middle-aged milestone reached.
A ceremonial hand-off complete.
The 100% Leak Free Comfort baton passed along.
I finally gave away my hoard of pads and tampons!
It’s officially been years since I needed them.
The menses have leftsies the edifices!
After years of flirting with the title and using it as an excuse whenever I yell at Bart for leaving his goddamn toothbrush on the bathroom counter when he knows we’re having company in three days, I am officially in menopause!
Contain your lust! That is one sexy anointment.
The Pads Have a New Pad
Did anyone still use pads and tampons these days or was it all reusable silicon shakers and rubber underwear?
I texted Kari and Erin, my much younger neighbors. “Do you young, supple, presumably fertile maidens want some vintage menses accouterments? I have no use for them!”
“You’re just…done? You don’t need them? Ever again?” Kari responded.
Never again!
“Wow! Should we have a party or participate in some ancient backyard celebration ritual?” Erin asked.
Ancient indeed! But not in my backyard please.
“Every morning when I wake up without a wadded cotton canoe stuck to my butt crack is a celebration,” I said. “Of course my evenings are replaced by sizzling night sweats and nonsensical anxiety spirals, but hey! I now have space under my bathroom sink for my portable fan collection and industrial sized bottle of Mylanta. It’s a real rager over here!”
“OMG no!” they responded in near tears. “Is it really that bad???”
Oh sweet peri-princesses. How much they did not know!
Did they think all those caricatures and comics and over-the-top portrayals of red-faced sitcom moms with their sweat-streaked foundation were purely for entertainment purposes? Perhaps these young does were too busy listening to the sound of their ovaries dropping eggs like quarters in a slot machine to hear the news about menopause.
Or perhaps we’re just not that good at talking about it.
The Mother of All Secrets
Did our moms talk about menopause? Different era back then. I knew something was happening to my mom. One minute she was stirring a pot of Rice-a-Roni and the next she was shoving ice cubes in her bra and yelling at my brother to OPEN A GODDAMN WINDOW.
For better or worse, my son knows what is going on in this old skin suit. One tween boy’s TMI is another woman’s attempt to normalize the human body. He will either grow up to be extremely empathetic toward middle-aged women or totally grossed out.
Doctors would much rather chat about your high LDL or how many glasses of alcohol you admit to consuming weekly than address something half the population is going to experience by a certain age. I get it. What a bore! I’d fall asleep too if my overheating body and overthinking brain would let me.
My own doctor is a woman my age and we barely acknowledge the sweaty cow in the room. She seems utterly surprised when I rip the speculum from her hand, throw it at her Ann Geddes calendar, and then burst into tears because I’m just so sad and hungry!
But it’s a common complaint among middle-aged women. Our changing bodies seem to totally vex or slip the minds our care professionals. Let’s ask Google why doctors evade this topic.
Okay, you know what AI? STFU! Now I’m really stewing in rage!
Some health care providers aren’t comfortable treating menopause symptoms? My health care provider has felt my ovaries— with her hands— so I think she should be comfortable shooting the shit about Progesterone patches and lube.
Little known fact: When a woman officially enters menopause, she gets her wings and becomes a gynecological apostle.
I couldn’t let my friends enter their next phase full of naivety and unanswered questions. And honestly it wasn’t all bad. Menopause comes with some surprising perks. It was up to me to assuage fears and educate the maxi-pad-clad-masses. Like Charon, ferryman who rowed the souls of the dead across the River Styx into the underworld, I shall take their sweet, verdant hands in my sweaty palm and prepare them for their journey to Menopause Island.
I am Shelly- the ascending archangel of aging!
Oh and ladies? We’ll need to ditch the boat and walk for a bit because this river will run dry sometimes, so please wear comfortable shoes.
The Good News About Menopause
Your Damn Period Stops
Let’s start with the obvious one here.
There’s a lot of nostalgia around picking your child up for the last time without knowing it was the last time, but no one talks about the sentimental side of realizing you’ll never bleed through your favorite granny panties again. One day you’re shoving cotton into your lady parts and the next you’re peddling dusty tampons to your neighbors. It’s just gone. No note, no forwarding address, no celebration. Ghosted by your own body. And yes, it’s as amazing as it sounds.
You Become Invisible
Crash a stranger’s selfie, flip off a Chad, stop putting on make-up for your Teams meetings. No one can see you now! In a strange phenomenon, women over 50 are largely ignored by…well…pretty much everyone. I used to think, How awful! But now I think, How awesome! We’re free!
Your Get Your Own PFD
If you are someone who enjoys bobbing in the water while exerting very little energy and also being safe and responsible, you will love having your own Personal Floatation Device. Don’t worry about leaving it behind— you can’t. It’s attached to you. Right around your middle. Regardless of what you eat, how much you exercise, or how many teasers your pilates teacher makes you do, that industrial rubber belt in your pants is staying put. Lots of expanding, seldom contracting.
Hair: You Win Some, You Lose Some
Parts of you do get thinner— like your hair. It gets limp, dry, and may fall out too. Fun! But don’t worry. What you lose on your head, you gain on your face. No one will notice your dry, flaky, bald patch because they’ll be so distracted by your goatee.
You Loose Your Filter
Let me tell you something about menopause! I literally have to because I no longer have the ability to bite my proverbial tongue. The filter is gone, ladies. You are now free to roam around grocery stores and share your opinion on GMOs. Don’t like your best friend’s husband? Tell her! Think the girl who waxes your mustache should really start dressing like a grown-up? She deserves to know! Perhaps post-menopause1 is for repairing all the friendships ruined by spending a decade analyzing and criticizing other people’s life choices.
Eternal Sunshine for the Foggy Mind
Every day is a new day when you have no short term memory! Surprises are around every corner. You’re like a sputtering, gesticulating old-school game show where everyone has to guess the word that has completely evaporated from your mind. Looking for your keys is like participating in a personalized scavenger hunt (HINT: the keys are still in the lock.) What did you do yesterday? What will you do today? Who the hell knows!
Look around— it’s a flaming bag of donkey doo-doo out there! Who wants to remember this anyway?
XO,
Shelly
Is there such a thing?
Thank you. Very enlightening. I’m 70 years old, so I’ve been in menopause for 20 years never understanding what my body was going through. Sadly I don’t remember what my mother might’ve been experiencing, she was of the generation that didn’t talk about it and now she’s no longer with me. My ob/gyn was no help whatsoever probably because I only went to see her because I was pregnant. And the lack of education on the subject. My daughters are now experiencing perimenopause which has opened up our collective eyes to reams of information. It seems in 2025 many gynecologists are educating themselves on the ramifications of perimenopause and menopause. Sad. Hormones are so very vital to our overall health and now I’m just learning how vital. Sorry for going off on a rant, but this subject is important to all women. Thank you so very much.
10x lighted mirror helps to catch the whiskers before they are OMG long.