menopause is for the birds

sunrise:  6:29
Hadley, Massachusetts

I have been able to find some piece of nature's essence everywhere I have walked for sunrise so far, and today was no exception, in spite of our econo-lodge with a view of the mall.  The only stirrings at 6:00 in the morning were a bicyclist, a garbage truck, the occasional desultory passing car, and lots of birds.  They are everywhere, and familiar, and one of my favorite parts of every morning.  We should all sing in the morning to start the day (well...maybe not all of us.  Some might do better whistling.).

**CONTENT ALERT**
If discussions of women's changing bodies is not your thing, don't bother to read on.

So - I began with an optimistic look at the world of outdoors so I could gripe a bit about this menopausal world.  For the most part, I have learned to live with hot flashes with some degree of equanimity.  I always wear layers that can quickly be removed to a sleeveless state.  It's only about 8-10 a day, just a part of the deal now.  Although, now and again one of them makes my skin prickle, my head feel like it's expanding, and I get a sense of panic that I might pass out.  Those are rare, but disconcerting and harder to cover up.  I do get the occasional stare - not because they notice that I'm sweating, I don't think, but because I have stripped down to a tank top where everyone else is in parkas.  Still - I'm okay with that.  And summer is coming - not sure what I'll do to cool down then.

More gray hair, more wrinkles, "loss of elasticity in the derma" (droopy skin), a growing distaste for mirrors and photographs (who IS that woman?)... well, sigh, okay.  I'll take it as gracefully as I can.

The most recent visitor, however, is MOST highly unwelcome.  A few weeks ago, as I was doing some stretches and abdominal work one morning, I kept pulling at my shirt to get it out of my way.  It was bunching up over my lower abdomen, so my legs ran into it when I did my bicycle moves on my back.  Good lord, that's not my shirt, it's part of me.  I had heard of this unhappy phenomenon from a very thin, athletic high school friend.  That little paunch is her only real sign of menopause so far.  It has arrived chez moi - I HATE IT. 

Okay - I've had my little tantrum, and will carry on, listening for the birds.