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Going Out - Page 46 Menopausal Muses… by Pauline
As I stand here, looking back along the bridge between youth and senior citizenship, I shudder at the realisation that, despite all attempts to avoid my onward journey, I am destined to cross this bridge. No one tells you how to make this crossing, or how long it will take. The start of the journey will undoubtedly take you by surprise. The certainty of life in your aspiring 20s and 30s and somewhat settled 40s, is slowly replaced by the onset of that daunting label ‘middle age’. Of course there are those who, at 40 appear older and more middle-aged than those in their mid-50s. Then there are those energetic people, well into their 70s and 80s, still able to enjoy good health and an envious, exciting and active lifestyle. My mother, a good example of someone heading recklessly towards her 80s, looks back on her experience of this same crossing. She doesn’t remember much about the bridge, the sights, the length of it or the time it took. She only recalls that she ‘just got on with it’. She can’t remember how old she was when she finally reached the other side.
I have stepped onto this bridge, grasping the handrail and taking a deep breath. I am not afraid of heights or concerned about how it may sway in the wind. I simply want the reassurance that the crossing will be smooth, calm and measured. The blunt discovery of the changes in myself, as outlined in the list below, convey a somewhat humorous insight into the inevitable decline of the thriving, independent business woman, or should that be the big chested, tight skirted, high heeled, workaholic that I think I once was. I have entered the new zone of middle aged housewife, moving into more relaxed sloppy tee shirts, loose trousers (never mind loose women) and flip flops. There is a part of me that welcomes this relaxation with a big smile, though there is a small part of me that thinks I should cling onto the high heels a little longer. Oh yes, my wardrobe is full of shoes I never wear. Okay, so what are these changes that creep up on us women as we embark on the journey from babe to fade…
In no particular order, from top to toe:
• The hair starts to grey, or even whitens…twinkling in the morning light!
• Hair feels thinner and appears finer. • The eyebrows take on a life of their own, growing so strongly that a weekly tweezering becomes essential. Dark brows also start to glint in the sun.
• We all know the face drops, but it really does change shape, causing the under- eye circles to grow into a second set of ´bags´. • Lines around the nose and mouth seem suddenly more pronounced. Th o s e sma l l ‘smile’ creases become deep lines that stay, even when you are not smiling. • The lips need less lipstick. Their texture changes so
that any lipstick feels like a wax crayon, simply skimming the surface.
• The neck creases we know about appear more pronounced. The skin becomes finer. • Arms and legs lose some more of their tone, looking saggy and dimpled; especially in certain lights (avoid those harsh ceiling spotlights). • Skin that was previously north of the natural waistline moves south, confirming that great ´muffin top’ expression and contributing to the ‘square bum’ syndrome! • Due to reducing levels of oestrogen, joints feel stressed, tight and creaky. All hail to Oil of Evening Primrose and Cod Liver, but they don’t eradicate the si tuat ion. Repet i t ive movements bring on repetitive aches that return without encouragement, (painting, gardening or carrying too many shopping bags, in particular). • Feet feel the stress quickly. Sore toes, split nails, dare I say bunions! Ouch. • Finger nails keep splitting (hand cream application by the bucket).
• Face cream, of course, is applied in desperation by an even bigger bucket!
I saw an amusing novelty sign recently. It read ‘Those Hot Flushes are really Power Surges’. I wish they were. More like a distinct moment of heightened embarrassment that engulfs you for only twenty seconds or so, but feels like endless minutes. I have so far ignored the desire to rip off cardigans only to put them back on ten minutes later. I simply say oh, here comes another one, take a ‘moment’ and carry on. Who knows how much longer these so-called normal afflictions will prevail? I read an article that promised ten years or so. Can I expect to be wafting the duvet to relieve those sudden night sweats that wake you at 4am for the next decade? (I am hot enough, thank you, living in southern Spain)!
But then there are mornings when I feel glad to be healthy, pleased to be able to start the day without my previous stress- frenzy every workday morning. The memories of the mad dash to work, munching a cereal bar and glancing in the driving mirror to check my lipstick, are now far behind me. Swap that with whining dogs nudging me out of bed. After their toilet and feed patrol, I stand, watching the kettle boil, deciding what to have for breakfast. Almost every day is like a Saturday. continued on facing page
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