The Five Stages of Not Giving a Shit

Menopause and beyond...

You nailed it. This discussion does resemble Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’ “Fives Stages of Grief.” And might I say, her concepts are aptly applied to menopause, which is like the DEATH of fertility, of sucking up to men and of youthful beauty, without the open-casket visitation.

Gonna break this down for you…

STAGE 1: DENIAL

You’ve gone through two dozen Clearblue pregnancy tests over the last six months and all came back negative. Despite this, you imagine you must be pregnant since you’ve not had your period for half a year (the supposed “due date” is getting close – fuck). Should you continue with your secret pregnancy vitamin regimen? What about abstaining from alcohol and cannabis vaping? Then you remember… hey wait! You had your tubes tied during that last caesarean section, no? You call the hospital and ask for a record of the surgery. Yep. Tubes were tied. One of those darn eggs must have slipped through.

But wait, you’ve not had sex for the last six months either. Is this the fucking immaculate conception? No it is not. This is the first stage of “the change.” And it’s called: DENIAL.

STAGE 2: ANGER

Here’s what “anger” looks like…

You’re at work, going about your business as usual and then, out of nowhere… WHAM! Your upper body, neck and face are friggin’ on fire and you’re flushed from head to toe and sweating like pig. We’re talking streams of sweat dripping off your forehead and into your eyes, which are now stinging like crazy.

Discreetly, you strip down to your undergarments and turn on that desk fan. Hope to god no one walks in on this vignette of sweat. It can’t be unseen. Then, just like that (I’m talking five minutes later) you are back to “normal” except now you’re freezing your ass off as your nearly nude, drenched-in-sweat body sits directly under the air conditioning supply vent. Is this a bad joke?! It is!

Discreetly you towel yourself off with Kleenix and eliminate that sweaty armpit stank with antibacterial wipes (be sure to schedule a skin graft, as that shit is same stuff they use on hospital floors to kill MRSA). Probably good to put your clothes back on before the Zoom meeting at 1:00.

There are a lot of emotions going on here, the core one being ANGER. Pretty sure on that.

STAGE 3: BARGAINING

OK, great! Period: gone. PMS: gone. Bloating: not gone. But things are mostly for the better, right? Ah… maybe not. A whole new set of issues start cropping up: weight gain, gray and thinning hair, peach fuzz everywhere, whiskers on upper lip and chin, wrinkles. And your skin… it’s dry all the time and your vah-ja-ja is like the Mojave Desert. Even Jason Momoa can’t reverse this drought.

Off to the ob/gyn you go. A bargain is struck: you are willing to try MHT (and resuming your period) in exchange for being transported back in time to your 32nd birthday. Beam me up Scotty.

Remember mom’s favorite expression: “You get what you pay for?” Right again mom! MHT is no fountain of youth, girl. Yes, it is a cheap and fast way to quit drenching your sheets at night and breaking into hot flashes in the middle of board meetings. And yes, you will look like a spring chicken for your daughter’s wedding. But who the fuck cares! You won’t, that’s for sure, especially after you have to set your expensive blood-stained Saatva mattress on the curb with a “free” sign. And you were only halfway through their 5-year finance plan. Well fuck me.

And who cares that your va-jay-jay is back in working order. It’s hard to get in the mood when you’ve had cramps and a heavy “flow” for 90 fucking days straight. Buh bye hormone replacement therapy.

Vanity will kill you girl. Believe it.

STAGE 4: DEPRESSION

The bargaining phase is waning and the reality of the new you has set in. Your egg basket is empty, no more periods, buh bye hormones and glowing feminine beauty. Hello fatigue, crankiness, achiness, weight gain, shifting body shape, hair loss, declining sex drive, headaches, osteoporosis, heart disease, UTI’s, dry skin and dry va-jay-jay. Have I missed anything? What’s not to like about this? Every goddamn thing.

Fun times ahead girls. Yes, you thoroughly deserve to wallow in the valley of despair during this phase. The men in your life should be delivering ice water with a lime wedge to your chaise lounge whenever you ring the bell.

STAGE 5: ACCEPTANCE

Alrighty. You’ve got this new version of your body which is quite different than the car you drove off the lot decades ago. This one only takes high octane and you’ve got to get the timing belt adjusted, maybe replaced. Also time to rotate those Michelins and make sure they’re properly inflated. And going forward you’re going to have to handle the engine with kid gloves. No driving too fast. No taking hard turns. No slamming on the brakes. Smooth and steady.

And that’s OK. You had your days in the fast lane and it was fun while it lasted. Hopefully you’ve not had any major body damage, but whether or no, this beautiful vehicle is worth all the extra maintenance and cautious driving ahead. You ARE NOT going want to miss out on a single sunset, refreshing downpour, glass of cognac, laughing with your friends or watching your grandchild tottering around the living room floor. Trust me on that. Be grateful for what you’ve got and start taking good care of that vintage bod (if you weren’t already).

The grand prize at the end of this whole process is this: you quit giving a shit what other people think of you. You really do. My Aunt Joni used to tell me this and yes, it was after more than a few bourbons. Sadly, when I was in the midst of all that hormonal flurry of my youth, I could not wrap my head around this concept. But 40 years later, damn, here I am.

Aunt Joni… you were fucking spot on. Wherever you are… thank you. Good times ahead.