There is not another human experience that has escaped the attentions of the commercially-minded folk of the internet.
Really – whatever it is – untidy cupboards, the inability to get off your sofa to do things or the need to detoxify something that was never toxic in the first place – there’s not just one shop for it, there’s an entire industry.
That is until you start to wonder if there’s a place for menopausal women. Somewhere with fans and iced water, somewhere that only stocks the kind of natural fabrics that keep you cool and don’t show the sweat, somewhere that sorts the snake oil from the science. Somewhere you can buy varifocals that don’t steam up. An emporium that celebrates our wisdom and humour, that understands we haven’t stopped doing anything – except taking ourselves too seriously.
It’s not as if women aren’t something of a target market. You can get pens for women, razors for women, hotel rooms for women and beer for women. Yet, when you come to one of the few exclusively female experiences, there’s bugger all.
Pregnant women don’t get this – the minute the line goes blue they’re fair game for perineal potions, overpriced stationery and an assortment of other crap to solve problems they’re not actually going to have.
What’s the difference then? Oh yes. It’s fine to be up the duff but it’s socially unacceptable to be ageing – an ageing woman. Oh yes. Keep those roots covered, those tits lifted and the wrinkles at bay. Like a Queen Canute facing an incoming tide of fleshy folds.
“Fights the signs of ageing”
It’s like the whole world agrees that we should be clinging on to our pert and perky youths with all we possess at the same time as doing all the other bollocks we’ve got on our to-do lists. I simply haven’t got hours in my day for all this nonsense.
I’m 50 with a 50-year-old woman’s face and, apparently, reproductive apparatus. While the peak of my powers may be somewhat underwhelming, I’m certainly at the peak of that place where not giving a crap meets a sense of time running out. This is a mighty combination and I can’t be doing with worrying about doing what the world has agreed I must. I’m hot and I’m tired and I’ve got lots of important things to do. If you can’t help, just get out of my way.
PS In case you’re wondering, I can’t do HRT due to protein S deficiency but I am on fluoxetine as one of the side effects is to suppress hot flushes. This worked like a charm for a while, but sadly the heat returning – especially, it seems, at 4.30am.