There was a time when a lady's age wasn't something she talked about. Those days are gone. In an era where age is a matter of public record, why be shy? Anyone who wants to know how old you are can find it out online anyhow. So, unabashed I will shout it out to the world - "I'M FIFTY!!"
I'm happy to be fifty. I'm old enough to have the really hard work of raising kids behind me, but young enough to enjoy my less demanding days. I'm healthy and grateful to be enjoying relative prosperity. I have no reason to dread being fifty.
I've been officially "in menopause" for well over a year. I know this is another of those taboo subjects, and that the thought of no longer being able to bear children is supposed to make me all weepy and maudlin, but why? I think it's wonderful to no longer buy a zillion "supplies" that you need to haul around with you everywhere you go "just in case". It is sheer bliss to not have to put up with feeling bloated and cranky and head achy for a week out of every month! As for childbearing, that boat pulled out of port years before I got anywhere near menopause. I had two children and three miscarriages - and after the third I decided the odds of having more children weren't on my side, and made a conscious decision to be happy with the two sons I had. So menopause ushered in an era where I no longer had to worry about whether there would be anymore "surprise" pregnancies that seemed more likely to end in disappointment than in a squirming bundle of joy.
I'm happy enough to just look forward to the day I'll have grandchildren.
Of course, it's not ALL fun. Skinny as a rail most of my life the pounds began to accumulate in my late thirties - about the same time my body began to be a lot less predictable. Since then I've gained thirty pounds that stubbornly refuse to leave my backside regardless of how much I exercise or how careful I am with my diet. I have decided to love myself as I am - which doesn't mean I'm giving up hope that somehow I'll still manage to drop those pounds. No, I'm just going to focus on the things I like about myself when I look in the mirror. It means I'm going to stop complaining about how I look and NOT put my husband on the spot by asking awkward questions like "Does this outfit make me look fat?"
I've been experiencing hot flashes for more than ten years now, so they're not a big deal anymore. I dress in layers, and sleep with my feet hanging out of the covers - which seems to help. When I feel the heatwave approaching I step outside for a minute (in winter) and stand in front of the open fridge if it's warm outside. I'm still not loving that part, but after all these years I've learned to cope.
I wear reading glasses now. For the time being the drugstore off the the rack variety is sufficient, but I know the day will come where I'll have to get a prescription for the real McCoy. I'm aging, and that's okay. In fact, it sure beats the alternative!
I leave you now with a few poems I've penned on these (Oh so "delicate") subjects. The tone is light, but the wisdom is relevant. Enjoy!
On Aging: By Sharon Flood Kasenberg (March '06)
I try not to sweat the subconscious -
but aging's not all in my mind.
It's there in my arthritic fingers,
it's there in my sagging behind.
Sometimes I'm still called a "hot mama" -
I carry myself with panache -
Though often it's not that I'm sexy -
just embroiled in another hot flash!
My mind's in a muddle too often,
I can be forgetful, I fear -
I feel young 'til I look in the mirror -
my vision's still ruthlessly clear.
I consciously try to stay upbeat
while gravity plays with my face -
Perhaps with that long promised wisdom
I'll learn to grow older with grace.
Men - Oh - Pause! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg (April '07)
Men, oh pause before you speak
and ask her to cool down -
unless you are a circus freak,
or better yet, a clown -
she isn't apt to be amused
by references to heat
and ignorance won't be excused
unless you're very sweet.
Men, oh pause - for goodness sake -
before you speak of weight.
This topic would be a mistake -
oh think man - hesitate!
You mustn't draw attention
to any of her flaws,
those hormones we won't mention
can cause her to grow claws!
Men, oh pause and heed my voice,
consider what I say -
her mood swings do not come by choice;
she can't hold them at bay.
She is not thrilled by all this change,
so pause before you act.
Consider how you might arrange
to show a little tact.
