There are a few reasons I’m looking forward to becoming a woman of a certain age. Mostly, stuff is cheaper. But also, I know so many ladies who are crazy confident in their skin–think any role played by Diane Keaton–and I’m kinda excited to get to that place. Jill, today’s Oversharer, makes me think menopause can’t be that bad. Right. RIGHT?! Don’t make me slap Jill upside the head for misleading me. Nod and smile, people. Nod. And. Smile.
My grandma always talked about the “change of life” in hushed tones. When seven year-old me asked what that meant, I was told abruptly “the change” meant no more babies and that the woman would no longer get The Curse. To seven year-old me, this didn’t sound like a bad deal: I had a little brother so I knew good and well that babies were a pain in the ass. I wasn’t sure if The Curse meant a spell cast by an evil witch or a naughty word that would get me a mouth full of soap…either way, this change of life sounded okay by me.
We’ve come a long way from having whispered conversations about our lady bits to prime time television commercials for sexual enhancement drugs…you know, Viagra for girls. These commercials feature cougars (or leopards or whatever feline we’re comparing hotsy totsy older women to) doing the come hither slither. Television wants us to think menopause is hot, sexy and glamorous. And, why not?
Here’s why I’m rocking my own personal menopalooza:
Hair, there, everywhere!
Chin hair, people. And when I say chin hair, I mean neck hair, ear hair, and other hair I’m too embarrassed to mention, even when I’m in an oversharing kind of mood. The only other time I had such a surge in unwanted hair growth was when I was preggo, so clearly, this is some kind of hormonal joke that God is laughing his ass off over. Wait, so I’m like a pregnant woman? Pregnant women glow. I’m glowing! Woot!
I’m smokin’!
I’m feeling hot-hot-hot all the freakin’ time. Salsa dancing hot. Sahara desert hot. Okay, so I’ve never been to the Sahara but I have a good imagination and Sahara feels pretty freakin’ hot. If you haven’t experienced a hot flash, it goes something like this: you’re a human barbeque grill. When you get a flash, it feels like someone turned up your thermostat to triple well-done crispy.
My body temperature spikes to about 2,347 degrees in three seconds. And don’t ask if that’s in Farenheit or Celsius: it’s hot, bitches. If I’m in a place where I can start shedding clothes and loosening up my buttons, then all is good. My husband really likes all this because he interprets any undressing as foreplay. Interestingly, my coworkers don’t seem to be as entertained. I’ve taken to singing “tequila makes her clothes fall off” because I figure the thirtysomethings I work with find “I’ve been drinking” an easier to understand explanation than “my hormones are off the chart today.” They’re traumatized enough by my menopausal sideshow, so I try to be kind.
Sexier sex!
Yes, really. Maybe it has to do with wearing less clothes in the house. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my crazy hormones have made a certain product that comes in a tube a part of our bedroom repertoire (hint, it starts with the letter K and ends with a Y.) Maybe it’s that I’ve settled in to my age and the place in my marriage where I’m not worried about whether my stretch marks are showing in a particular position. We’re definitely rocking quality over quantity but that’s okay.
I wonder what grandma would think of my views on “the change.” Would she be shocked at my loud and proud stance on china hair and other things not suited for polite company? And, while I am not going to go so far and claim menopause is hot, sexy and glamorous, I know I sure as hell am. Menopalooza all the way!
Jill writes about adoption, motherhood and midlife on her blog, Ripped Jeans and Bifocals. She has a degree in social psychology that she uses to try and make sense out of the behavior of her husband and three children but it hasn’t really helped so far. She enjoys dry humor and has a love/hate relationship with running. Her writing has been featured on Scary Mommy, In the Powder Room, Mamalode, and Blunt Moms. She willingly answers any questions that end with “and would you like wine with that?” Get more Jill on Susan Macarelli’s Beyond Your Blog December 29th podcast, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.
Debbie (MAD Hippies Life) says
Don’t get me started on the craziness, I could share all day! Menopalooza attendees unite! Yaya!!
Jill says
Yes! I am thinking there should be a t-shirt. And a signature cocktail!
ashley says
Oh, dear…I’ve got a chin hair and a prrrrettttty bad stache for nearly 31. I cant wait til ‘the change’, ill probably turn into a man with a full beard….
Meredith says
I’m going to nod and smile with you, Steph! Jill makes some parts of this pretty sweet, and I’ve already got the chin hair, so it can only get better from here on out, huh? 😉
Stephanie Jankowski says
Oh you’re well on your way, pal! xo
Kristi Marsella says
My sister and I have been identifying and plucking-without-warning chin hairs for years. Since we were 40 something, and now we’re 50 something. It’s a sign of affection and trust. I was immediately enamored with your blog (discovering it for the first time today) when I saw the words “chin hairs”. Instant sisters.
Thanks for bringing us all together for a collective sigh. Life is, in fact, better than ever. And I’ll take chin hairs and wisdom over the alternative any day!
Stephanie Jankowski says
Hairy women unite! 😉 Thanks so much for reading, Kristi, and welcome to my corner of crazy!