The other night while cuddling with my husband after making love, I mentioned something about expecting my period to start soon, and he said, "Pretty soon, no more periods."
"Pretty soon?" I said.
He, being not completely stupid, must have noticed the apprehension in my voice, and said, "Yeah, you know, like two years or maybe ten. Pretty soon. No more babies, right? That's a good thing."
"Um, I thought babies were off the table when you got your vasectomy several years ago," I said, my agitation growing.
"I meant no more babies for YOU."
"OH! Sweet, I can run around pulling off my panties indiscriminately and not have to worry about getting pregnant, is that what you mean?"
"You need to stop talking now because you're depressing me," I told him, and although I said it like I was joking I had to choke back a tear. He must have sensed that too because he shut up.
I can understand how, from his perspective, after listening to me complain about my periods for years, he would believe that not having them anymore would be a good thing. I hope someday I will also see that as a good thing, but right now, it seems like one milepost closer to the end of the line, and that doesn't sit well with me.
When I think of post menopausal women I think of old, dried up, cranky, saggy, and sexless women that smell bad. I know what a gross misconception this is. I have sexy, vibrant, friends who are on the other side of that bloody divide, and yet this perception I have persists.
I need to get me some Christiane Northrup. She has a way of making women's issues, no matter what the stage of life, seem like a gift and a wonder. I can remember listening to her years ago and almost looking forward to menopause. I think it's time to check her out again!
If nothing else, I can make plans to become a floozy. My husband practically endorsed the idea, right? For now, I'm still dealing with bloating and blood-stained panties, though, but pretty soon,...