It’s official—I’m a fully-fledged menopausal woman.
Menopause: the gift that keeps on giving. Once upon a time, I thought life would be sweeter once my dreaded periods packed their bags and left. Oh, how wrong I was!
Menopause isn’t just a monthly event—it’s a weekly surprise, and not the good kind.
As awareness spreads, so does my waistline. Hashtags are trending, celebs are sharing their stories, and Davina is on a mission to make menopause mainstream. But let’s be real—this isn’t just a phase, and we’re not crazy. We’re navigating a rollercoaster that no one warned us about.
Every week, I’m back on Google searching ‘new menopause symptoms’—because, trust me, the surprises just keep coming. Cellulite… on my arms?! An itchy scalp so relentless I was convinced I had nits. And don’t even get me started on the eyebrow hairs that have packed up and relocated to my chin.
How is it possible for chin hairs to regrow overnight? Every evening, I sit—tweezers in hand—waging war on the stubborn little blighters, only to wake up and find a fresh batch ready for battle.
I always thought menopause was for old women. I never saw my mum suffer—she breezed through it, no hot flushes, no meltdowns. So, naturally, I assumed I’d do the same. Spoiler alert: I did not.
Where PMS once made me suffer a few days a month, menopause is a 24/7 experience. Hot flushes at the most inconvenient times. Brain fog so bad, I forgot my own phone number. Mood swings so wild, even his-nibs crunching crisps makes my blood boil.
And then there’s the meno middle. The permanent, inflatable rubber ring I never asked for. The other morning, I wrestled with my work trousers, breaking into a full sweat trying to zip them up. As always, a child walked in at just the right moment to witness the battle. Naturally, the whole house knew within minutes.
I now spend hours searching for ‘miracle knickers’ that promise a flatter stomach. Spoiler: they either don’t work, or they’re so tight I lose circulation.
Even the simplest things require planning—like bending down. Can I hold onto something to get back up? Will I need assistance? Should I just leave whatever I dropped and pretend it never existed?
And don’t get me started on sleep. My fan is on full blast while his-nibs wears a hat in bed. I don’t get cold anymore—thanks to my inbuilt meno jacket that I can’t take off.
Conversations with friends reassure me I’m not alone. We’ve moved on from discussing our kids to comparing meno nightmares. One friend forgot basic words mid-conversation, another went from a high-powered job to crippling anxiety overnight. It’s like waking up as a different person—one you don’t recognize.
There is no cure, no quick fix. So, if you need me, I’ll be in a quiet corner with a king-size chocolate bar and a large glass of wine—before one of my kids finds me and guilt-trips me over my snack choices.
Thank you for this; an honest exploration of menopause (which is often left our discussions). I am probably a few years out from the beginnings of this stage of life and it’s great to be better informed! Keep sharing this; it’s so vital!
Amazing post! You’ve brought so much honesty and humour to menopause, I think a lot of women will appreciate this approach to what can be seen as quite a hush-hush topic!