-ette
B E IN G A WO M A N OF A CE RTA I N AGE All aboard the menopause express.
T
hat age being fifty. The truth is, I arrived here sooner than I expected. To mark the occasion (and to make matters worse), people sent cards congratulating me on reaching a milestone age; other cards simply sympathised with me achieving the Big 50.
eyes and nod their heads in sympathy. Ireland in the eighties was a place where ‘ladies’ problems’ were talked about in hushed tones.
I had just about accepted the whole ageing process—I was, after all, still managing to read my text messages using a selfiestick, only after I ‘It’s all downhill from here.’ ‘Let the sagging discovered my arms were no longer long enough. commence.’ ‘Welcome to the OAP club.’ ‘Age is just a number. A BIG ONE.’ The truth is My body was changing at a rate of knots; if everyone thought they were hilarious, and some you’re easily offended or squeamish, look away now. of the cards were. To shift my thoughts to more pressing matters, my particular favourite card: The first thing to go is the neck: it looked like it ‘All aboard the menopause express’ needed a good ironing. No matter how high I held my head, I still had this wrinkled neck. I had At this terrifying prospect, I thought about two options—surgery or turtle necks and I now getting a black shift dress and boxy hat—a bit own the entire range of turtle necks by Zara. My like Jackie O—and weeping into a black lace waist disappeared, gone overnight. I still haven’t handkerchief. But I had no time for all that: I been able to find it, or regain it for that matter. was already on the menopause express heading south and I’d no idea when the journey would My boobs took on a life of their own. They end or even what state I’d be in when I got there. grew rapidly and spilled out over my 34Bs and wobbled like jelly as I moved. I couldn’t wait to I’m not an uneducated or unintelligent woman get home in the evening so I could release them but was totally naive about the symptoms from their captors. It was such a relief to set them menopause would unleash upon me. It was a free—they were like confined animals and raced journey I knew I’d be making but not one I’d one another to my waist upon their release. prepared for. My mother had gone through ‘The Change’ in the eighties and never spoke to us The truth is, I’m not a woman who is at ease about it. Occasionally she’d whisper the words with her own body; I don’t walk around naked ‘The Change’ to her sisters and they’d all roll their or even half naked—never did—so for no other 62
