Let's Talk About Menopause!

OK, so I've been spending a lot of time lately thinking about menopause. Not that I'm currently in the throes of it or anything, God Forbid, but mainly because I'm doing a seminar on it for the Department of Recreation next month. Yeah, that's right, MENOPAUSE, or as others seem to want to call it, "The Change of Life."

Now, I do in fact has a personal interest in this topic, because although mentally I think I'm still a youthful and juvenile 18, this poor old body of mine is teetering on the edge of he big 4-0, and it's a fact that I am very likely already on the slip 'n slide that is Perimenopause. (Otherwise known as the Years in Which You Begin to Dread The Whiskers You Will Be Sprouting Soon Enough.)

Oh yes, the whiskers. I think if there is one thing I dread the most it is the fact that will likely start to sprout wiry hairs out of places that hair really doesn't belong. (But really, doesn't puberty kinda involve the same thing? Why on earth would Mother Nature want us to grow hair in our asscrack, anyway?)

There's been many occasions in my life when I've been trying to have a conversation with some poor menopausal gal, but I kept getting distracted by the crop of bristles growing out of her chin. (Or her wart. Or her nose. For Gawd's sake ladies, that's what tweezers are for!) I have to confess that I've always found these untended, wayward hairs mesmerizing. I can assure you that the INSTANT I get a big 'ol hair growing out of my face I'm booking a standing appointment for electrolysis. Even my 80 year old totally senile grandmother roused herself out of her dementia long enough to beg me to pluck her face for her.

I've also been reading a lot about the upcoming disaster that is Vaginal Dryness. The way the books describe it, it's going to be like a guy sticking his doink in a tunnel of 30-grit sandpaper while getting razor burn on his face from your lady-whiskers. Doesn't sound particularly romantic to me. I might as well buy myself a ten gallon drum of K-Y and get is installed under my bed right now.

The only thing I'm not dreading is the mood swings. Really, who wouldn't love to have an excuse to just be as bitchy as you want to be on any given day and have the perfect excuse? Right now, when I give in to the desire to tear someone a new asshole I really have nothing to blame it on.

A quick Google Image search on the topic really muddies the waters. I mean, does menopause mean that I'll be bloated and itchy, as this cartoon suggests? (Not to mention make my bosoms grow to watermelon-like proportions...)

Or does it mean that menopause will likely make me "sexually flexible", as this picture seems to suggest? (If so, I'm sure my husband will enjoy these upcoming years far more than myself.)

Will menopause make me finally really enjoy a good salad, like this lady, who seems absolutely gleeful to finally be going through The Change.....

Or will I develop a ravenous need to gnaw on big weenies, as this picture suggests?

Oh wait! Now I know what causes so much discomfort during menopause. It's because you have a giant orange horseshoe up your box! No wonder sex becomes more painful!

At any rate, there's not much I can do about it but sit back and enjoy the ride. I take comfort in the fact that we vegetarans apparently have a much easier time of it during the Big Change, and also that I have my beautician on speed dial.

Anybody out there got a funny anectdote about The Change? Drop me a line and tell me all about it!