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Lorraine, you have unwittingly brought up an entirely new and disturbing issue we women have to deal with whilst (I saw The Nanny and I like this word) going through the magical and very special journey of Menopause.

The issue:  FACIAL HAIR!

And the tricky thing about facial hair is that you have to put on your reading glasses to see any protruding signs of testosterone.  And when you have your reading glasses on when you look in the mirror, well…let’s just say…depressing (and that’s even after Botox, Juvederm and Retina-A!).

A couple of months ago I went to one of those quickie nail salons where the women are wonderful but don’t speak a word of English.  There’s always a lot of nodding and smiling going on.

Whilst I was sitting there getting a manicure, the technician suddenly leaned across to me and stuck out a very long bony finger.  She was pointing to something on my face saying (in a loud voice mind you in the crowded salon), “L O O O N G  H A A A A A A I R! 

L O O O N G  H A A A A A A I R!”

I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just sat there nodding and smiling.

She became impatient with me.

“NO, YOU HAVE L O O O O O O N G  H A A A A A I R!” pointing to a mole on my face.

OMG!  I suddenly felt like a 7^th grader who’s been humiliated because she can’t yet fit into a training bra and the pubescent pimply boys are pointing and snickering and muttering something about being a “carpenter’s dream” (fine, that was me but it’s too painful to talk about).

As I realized she was pointing out a very long hair that had appeared out of a lovely fashionable mole on my face (much like Cindy Crawford’s), I was horrified to see every head in the place turn in my direction. 

I turned a nice shade of bright red which fortunately matched my nail color perfectly.

“YOU WANT GOOOOOOONE?  YOU WANT WAAAAAAAX?”

Now the crowd leaned forward in anticipation of my response.

“Well, uh, sure, snicker snicker, okay, yeah that sounds good.”

Fortunately, I was whisked quickly into a secret back room where hot cruel wax was slathered on my face and a form of torture never felt before was performed ten minutes later.

The good news is that I left with beautiful nails and a hairless face (although still red).

Now I have a new obsession and have purchased a small mirror and a razor I keep with me at all times.  Guess I won’t be flying anytime soon.

Mary 

Mary,

I am currently in the stages of high anxiety……….and I am trying hard to figure out why.  Could it be anxiety as a symptom of menopause as the books and websites all say, or could it be the circumstances in our life that come at the same time as menopause??  It is almost like the riddle……which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Both you and I have suffered from anxiety at different times in our lives, and as we look back we can now, pretty well, identify the obvious culprits………husbands and kids.

That double-duo could put us into a panic attack quicker than the newest wrinkles that are starting to appear on my neck.

*** Although, now that I have put that admission of neck rumples in writing, I can feel my stomach tightening, my heart racing and my thoughts veering towards the yellow pages and a plastic surgeon.***

But now, deep into menopause I am finding myself again experiencing that feeling of foreboding, angst and nervousness that I used to feel when I worried about the kid’s behind the wheel, my husband’s job and making everything work at home while I was at work doing work. 

I have no more of the above issues to concern myself with and yet all of a sudden, shallow breathing, knots in stomach, tunnel vision and general feelings of angst.  After many hours of pondering I think I have figured it out ……….no kid issues, no husband issues, no issues in general has left me floundering in a sea of……WHAT DO I DO NOW? 

Maybe that is where a lot of us find ourselves in our 50’s…alleviated from the trials and tribulations of our former, younger lives………and that also leaves us with the challenge of finding things to again make us feel productive and useful.

So, I won’t hit the panic button when I feel panicky, I won’t fear the future, and I will put together a plan for something constructive and hope the frets all flutter away.

Lorraine

Check this out:

Middle age is truly miserable, according to a study using data from 80 countries showing that depression is most common among men and women in their 40s.

British and U.S. researchers found that happiness for people ranging from Albania to Zimbabwe follows a U-shaped curve where life begins cheerful before turning tough during middle age and then returning to the joys of youth in the golden years.

So I’m confused.  This seems to be a world wide trend and is consistent among married people, single people, in-between people. What then is all this hype about the 40’s being the new 30’s and the 50’s being the new 40’s?  And apparently, the “golden years” are the new childhood.

I’ve been actually feeling so happy and now I’m feeling schizophrenic.  And if the 40’s are the years for depression and I’m in my early 50’s, why do I need this bio-identical hormone patch to help with my hormonal mood swings?

Were women a part of this study?

I need to have a whole new perspective.  Now I can’t wait for the golden years so I can be a kid again.

Hmmm…why am I not convinced?   This depression study is making me depressed.

Mary 

Lots of things during my day have become real brain teasers, but maybe I have to admit that they are more annoyances than exercise for the gray matter.  Things like constantly getting kicked off of my wi-fi, trying to understand why the trash doesn’t get picked up on trash day and attempting to stop whomever has my personal phone number on their automatic fax dial-up.

Even though these things do make your neurons perk they are not considered enough exercise to keep the brain young and fit……..and not enough to ward off any type of dementia.  So I have incorporated some actual brain teaser exercises into my daily routine.

There are many sites on the internet that you can find these mental work-outs and some of them can actually be fun…………fun until you conquer the first level and then are kicked up to the next.  When I found I couldn’t get out of level one on the memory quiz I started to freak out.  Memory is what I want to keep until the end and it is my worst brain subject.  I keep trying and trying but I can’t get out of memory kindergarten…….Now I am frightened and REALLY WANT TO FORGET. 

Lorraine 

 Apparently I have one of the better kept secrets known to womankind.  It’s a man’s world that’s for sure.   I hear the word Viagra on a daily basis multiple times.  I can’t watch TV at night without being subjected to at least half a dozen of those erection marathon commercials.So, why haven’t you and I heard about OXYTOCIN???  Remember oxytocin?  Okay, let me really jar your memory…remember LABOR?  Remember that our bodies secreted oxytocin during labor so we could actually get that enormous huge baby body out of our teensy weensie ones?Well, I recently went to the hormone doc for a check up.  She asked me about my sex life and I said it was pretty darn good, all things considering (saggy body, sleep deprivation, heat flash on/heat flash off).   With a twinkle in her eye, she asked me if I’d like a little help…a little boost?I have always regretted never doing drugs in college.  What was I thinking?  It was the early 70’s and I wouldn’t participate in anything.  When my friends were talking about “going on a trip”, I just always assumed they were talking about something that involved a plane ticket.  And I could never understand why they were always so happy.I was such a fuddy dud.  So, I jumped at the chance for this little Viagra wannabe and she wrote the prescription.So, now I’ve got these  tiny pills that promise a pack of punch and I’m ready to go. I’m a bit skeptical.  How come I’ve never heard of these sex-drive supplements?  Why hasn’t this been on the news and why aren’t all the commercials shown during Oprah and The View crammed with the promotion of these libido loving capsules?I’ve told a few girlfriends about this and they’re all vying and begging me to give them a few of mine.  I politely told them that that would be illegal…just like the drugs in the ’70’s.Mary   

MARY’S TOP TEN RESOLUTIONS:

1.  Stop trying to figure out the difference between peri-menopause and menopause.   The term “the never-ending hell decade” works just fine.

2.  Stop feeling guilty whenever I have a negative thought.  I hate The Secret, I don’t want to know The Secret…I want the Secret to be a secret.

3.  Stop expecting my kids to miss me as much as I miss them.

4.  Stop feeling guilty about how little I miss my kids.

5.  Stop watching Real Housewives of Orange County.  I’m starting to obsess about bigger and better boobs.

6.  Stop thinking my husband will ever read my book.  He refuses to learn French.

7.  Stop thinking my new Kegel practices will actually make a difference.

8.  Stop thinking the Botox and soon to be injected Juvederm will not be habit forming.

9.  Stop thinking my beloved Broncos are in the playoffs.

10. Stop thinking.

Don’t even get me started on beauty pageants. Remember, I live in the state where Jon Benet Ramsey lived. The whole beauty pageant thing nauseates me. We start with this beauty crap so early in life.

So I’ll put aside my inner rant that wants to be let out about superficial contests, and find the bright side of this story. The woman was a size 8? I’m surprised they didn’t want her to go on a strict diet of lettuce and tomatoes. Remember when size 8 was the perfect size? Now, it’s an indication of “chubbiness”. Don’t we need some extra skin so when we sit down, we don’t crack in half?

I’d like the whole beauty pageant thing to be abolished forever. I’d like it to be replaced by a contest for “emotionally intelligent” women. I don’t care about IQ or looks. I’ve met a lot of “brainy” women without a soul and a lot of pretty women without a brain.

How about a pageant of who has the best common sense?

I’ll take good common sense over brains and beauty any day of the week.

Mary