Heat and exuberant emotions: BRIGITTE.de reader Doris Benz reports how she has nevertheless come to terms with the menopause.
Some phases of life sneak up on you. Puberty for example. The daughter buys gray eyeliner, pink lip gloss, and expresses the urgent need for a bra, although there is nothing to the naked eye that would justify this desire. As a mother you know: Aha, now the nice Bibi Blocksberg will soon be replaced by the not-so-adult-free Miley Cyrus, who likes to swing naked on a swinging ball. Be prepared that one wrong word on Saturday morning can ruin the whole weekend.
Eventually, the rolling eyes and snotty replies start to become obnoxious, especially as you’re distracted by the crimson lipstick and elaborate eye makeup that resembles an adorable raccoon. I slipped through her puberty with my daughter quite relaxed because I can remember my own unadorned. I could still come up with at least thirteen off-the-cuff reasons why I wasn’t able to be home by the appointed time and how meanly my friends forced me to drink alcohol when I never, really never wanted to.
Nobody prepares you for menopause
But menopause, ladies, is a chapter you’re not really prepared for. Your own mother isn’t much of a help either, because unfortunately your mom was going through menopause at the time you were going through puberty yourself, and honestly you have better things to do than taking care of your own mother’s little ailments .
Part one: the hot flash. She comes with a bang! Bang! What feels like one to two liters of water break through all the existing pores of the body and your face gets the flattering color of a tomato sauce à la Napoli. The feeling is as uncomfortable as if you had been caught by ten police officers with a suitcase full of drugs and had also discovered that you were wearing nothing but flip-flops.
I didn’t want to admit it. menopause? Now? nope! So I took precautionary measures. Always powder and deodorant with me, as well as a small fan in all handbags. The hot flash, the old bitch, never comes when you’re waiting at the tram stop freezing in winter, but when you’re standing at a vernissage, surrounded by people, perfectly styled and just about to make brilliant comments about the exhibited pictures. Which doesn’t work quite so confidently while the makeup flows down your cheeks.
Bye-bye, spaghetti straps!
Let’s get to part two of the approaching menopause: The little daughter is almost grown up and is setting out to conquer new worlds. Let’s say Australia. You stand at the airport and bravely wave at the child with a smile. When you find the car in the parking garage a quarter of an hour later, you get the strange feeling that something can’t be right with your upper arms. Like they’re still wobbling.
And yes they do! I’m quite sure that the only reason the Queen waves her hand so funny is because she doesn’t feel like lying in the royal bed with jiggly upper arms after a long, waving day at work. That means saying goodbye to the jaunty spaghetti strap summer dress. Honestly, spaghetti straps only look really good on girls under 25 with a slim figure and the breasts in place anyway. With bra straps and a summery blush on your shoulders, you like to be reminded of a delicious ham roast in the net. So get some dumbbells out of the basement so it doesn’t get any worse.
Part three is called unpredictable outbursts of emotion. Some have already experienced this during pregnancy. A cute baby on TV or a cute little dog and the tears will flow. At an advanced age, one bursts into tears when, in the television commercial, the student gives the mother a pack of chocolates from the gas station for Mother’s Day, even if one assumes that he has the dirty laundry to wash with him in his rucksack.
The good news is that menopause can be used as an excuse for anything
So, and now the good news: Menopausal symptoms are a suitable excuse for every occasion. I was at a party with a friend recently. A boring man hogs us with his even more boring stories. While I’m trying to think of a polite way to sneak away, my girlfriend suddenly fans her face frantically and says, “I’m having a hot flash. I need to get some fresh air right away.” Grabs my arm, whispers “Excuse me” in the direction of Boredom and drags me onto the balcony. Brilliant! I try it with my family.
Doris Benz studied German and worked most of the time as a copywriter. For a few years she has made her love of art her profession and works in a gallery.
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Tiresome discussion about the organization of the weekend. Me: “Just leave me alone. I’m not feeling well at all. I have such menopausal symptoms, I don’t even know if I can even get anything together.” Result: meaningful exchange of views, embarrassed silence and calm for me.
Note: Young women have a great deal of respect for this topic, they fully understand and think: “I hope it gets to me very, very late.” Older women throw conspiratorial and amused looks and men of all ages don’t know what to do with it, trying to feign understanding and unobtrusively get out of the line of fire.
I think like this: I drink a tea from the health food store every day against menopausal symptoms and imagine it helps. I go jogging three times a week and then do half-hearted exercises for flabby stomach and flabby arms. I ignore my wrinkles and embrace the flushes. My motto is on a birthday card: “I’m still hot. But more in waves now.” Then I wave to you all warmly, but of course majestically only with my hand.