I really didn’t feel well yesterday. At 54, my body is in the middle of deciding whether or not it wants to be done with having babies. And systems are going haywire. I woke up this morning and all of my joints were stiff and sore. Like I’d been through a battle and I’d lost.

I was hoping to attend my Tuesday dance class. “Hell no”, my body said. Have a seat. I suddenly remember being 20 something, being able to dance all night, and knowing that I knew it all. I was in my fearless 20’s and I was making up the rule book as I lived. But my menopausal body is here to remind me that when it comes to the dance of the hormones, I am completely at it’s mercy.

If you total up the 6 pills I am currently taking for blood pressure, reflux, birth control, anxiety, and allergies, with the two vitamin tablets and the 800 mg of Ibuprophen I downed this morning, I am at a dozen pills a popping. Once, during intake for a procedure, a nurse at the hospital, complimented me on how few pills I was taking at the time compared to people my age. If she could see me now.

Surely someone must have forewarned you and I of these ugly symptoms I am now suffering, but I dismissed the warnings because they didn’t apply to me. Would it help if we were made to take a second Sex Ed course in our 40’s on “The Dying of your Body’s Biological Purpose: Menopause and You and the Stuff You Never Wanted to Know” ? All phases of this whole baby-having privilege are disgusting: before, during, and after. I’ve paid my dues for this club already! I quit.

I join an army of women who have been here and done this and I want to say, this is sucko. Let’s hear more about this phase of a woman’s life in mass and social media. It’s such a big deal and the male population may need to endure our stories as we have theirs. If we want people to have compassion for us, including ourselves, we need to tell our story first.

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