This morning, prior to 8am, I found a grey eyebrow hair, a pimple, sweated through my shirt, and told my person I am thinking of not coloring my hair anymore. But I might still color my hair because what if I end up looking like the Cryptkeeper and made him promise me he would tell me if I did start resembling the Cryptkeeper.
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| Self-portrait |
Once upon a time and a million years ago or until the 1960's, women were only valued for their child-bearing potential. Once that shipped passed, so did they. Relegated to the outside, seen as unattractive and a burden, they were ignored or labeled with amazing monikers like "hag", "crone", "witch". We were conditioned to accept that we are important, productive, and valued members of society (well, sort-of) until we could not longer have a baby. So of course no one stood up and said "It's me! I am waking up with night sweats and haven't had a period in two months!" They just quietly withered away in a corner and took pleasure from those aging faster than they did.
I am all for feeling better about myself at someone else's expense, sure. But I think we start talking about this weird, weird time in our lives. I feel like a teenager in reverse. My body is changing, my skin is a mess, and my hair doesn't work anymore. I am intensely happy and furious and sad. I am sweaty half the day and night. But producing some sort of dry eggs (I truly imagine them going "pooooof" in a cloud of dust as they release) and still getting wicked PMS and a sort-of period. Yeah me! What is happening with other people my age? I am unsure because NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT. And if they do talk about it, we think silently "hag", "crone", "witch" and move away because it could be catching.
I continually feel a juxtaposition of all things. I feel older than the earth, but a good belly laugh makes me feel young again. I feel unattractive and hideous some days (turn away! turn away!) but am more comfortable in my body than maybe ever. And that includes its many imperfections. I feel anxious and worried and insecure but I also don't care a lot about what people think. I am going to stay at this job forever, I am going to find a new one tomorrow. I have been sensitive about my face in pictures since the Bell's and that is raging at a whole new level. But then today, I took a decent picture and did not think cryptkeeper. I thought, "okay".
Maybe what we need to all think is "okay". It's okay that my body is doing weird things. It's okay that I get pimples and grey hair. It's okay that I am getting older because my age and my child-bearing abilities do not determine my place in the world. It's okay that I feel like crying and have no idea why. It's okay that I feel so angry that I could punch a stranger in the face and smile. And you know? I teach high school so I know that I am called worse things than hag or crone. So, it's okay.
We don't need to go around and say "Menopause?" and high-five anyone who nods. I mean, you can if you want, sure. I think we need to just find a way to talk about it and be comfortable if other people want to talk about it. Where is Judy Blume and why hasn't she written about this?? Where is the sequel to Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret where Margaret is 50 plus and she and her girlfriends are welcoming in menopause with wine and rituals like they did their period. I picture them circled up and saying things like "My ovaries do not determine my worth" while doing pelvic floor exercises.
So, I guess until Judy Blume writes this book and lets the world know it is okay for women to age, we just need to be okay with talking about it. And that it is happening. And talking to other people about what is happening. Because, just like getting periods, it is weird and it is scary, and sometimes, nothing feels okay. And it feels even worse when no one is talking about it.
