Let me start on a positive note; there are plenty of fantastic things about being a woman your forties. We grow more confident, more accomplished and wiser over the years. We learn to take care of ourselves a bit, instead of only taking care of others. Many women, myself included, feel sexier than ever before. I am, in many ways, better in my forties than I ever have been. Take a moment …
Okay, now let’s talk about perimenopause.
Little did I suspect, that one day I would be slathering on hormone cream in the desperate hope that I could survive a trip to Walmart without picking up a prison sentence. That I could restrain myself from hiring a bounty hunter to track down a significant other with a dead cell phone battery. And that I could avoid having an emotional breakdown should I not be able to find a matching pair socks. (Again! Where in the hell do they go?!)
Is it a secret or something? Why is it that nobody tells you that you will have the pleasure of revisiting your adolescent years in your mid-forties, sans a subscription to Seventeen magazine and perky boobs? Why doesn’t spellcheck even recognize the word “perimenopause?” Is it merely a coincidence that perimenopause is never mentioned in high school Health classes across America? Maybe it’s an oversight. But maybe not.
Maybe nobody warns you because it’s too entertaining to watch a female CEO make a midnight DevilDog run, or too much fun to watch a member of the Women’s Bar Association break down into sobs because her name is spelled wrong on junk mail. (I don’t know why! Neither does she!) Okay, so maybe it’s not a conspiracy, but it’s still weirdly inexplicable. Kind of like Roswell, but that’s another blog post.
So, I’m changing that. I’m breaking the silence. I’m spreading the word! Get ready, my sisters! Spend your thirties endearing yourself to your loved ones. That way, when you someday threaten to put a gearshift in an anatomically questionable place, for not returning the driver’s seat to where they found it after borrowing your car, they’ll think twice before having you committed. Pause for a moment, whenever you can during those precious, but fleeting years, to take a deep cleansing breath and enjoy the peace of emotional stability. Because it won’t last. Oh, and take lots of pictures of your perky boobs. Because they won’t last either. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s better that you know.
In sum, there are many great things about being a woman in your fourth decade of life. Estrogen and Progesterone are not among them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go purchase some DevilDogs.