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It started out rather slowly. A few missed periods.  An increase in blemishes.  A reduced sex drive.  (Okay, that one was hard to judge but it did get worse.)  Premature menopause snuck into my life like a snake through the grass. 

My journey into menopause started about age 40.  If you read my previous blog about my thyroid, you may remember me describing that the warranty on my body must have run out at midnight on the last day of my 39^th year because my 40^th year brought HUGE changes. 

One of the first disappointing changes was, and continues to be, acne.  As a teenager, I rarely had any trouble with pimples and the like. I might have gotten one big zit each month but that was it.  At the onset of my reproductive decline, I became to harvest a farmland of pimples across my forehead.  I also became the not-so-proud landlord to “Yolanda the Zit from Mt. Zit-Olympus” who makes frequent uninvited visits to my chin.  Put it this way, she is too big to be ignored and so I named her.  She also has her own zip code when in town.

Now I can really relate to my middle schoolers and their skin issues.  In fact, zits almost make me feel young again.  NOT!

The least welcomed symptom, from my husband’s perspective, is the loss of my libido.  Those of you from Texas might say “that dog don’t hunt no more!”  At first I attributed my lack of desire to my busy schedule with kids, work, and taking care of my adult parents.  However, even when all of those factors have been put to rest, the drive still isn’t there.  I have to really psych myself up all day long in order to fain eagerness for the occasion. 

There has been some improvement lately with my libido but if it doesn’t improve soon my husband will have easily qualified for the priesthood based on the abstinence requirement.

The scourge of menopause is the absolutely debilitating presence of hot flashes.  The first year or two they were subtle.  A slight warming of my upper body and face that usually occurred at night.  More recently, these hot flashes have morphed into dragon-esque proportions of intense flame, fire, sweating, and smoke.  I am not joking. 

On one occasion this summer while at a local shopping store, I broke out into a monster hot flash.  A nearby shopper said to me, “Wow, did you get sunburned today!”  I was grateful it was July and not January.

I relish the winter.  I can wear short sleeves all winter long, turn the heat way down, and be happy as a bug in a rug.  By contrast, in the warmer summer months, I spend 14 out of the 16 waking hours each day covered in perspiration, wondering how my antiperspirant failed again.  I have yet to discover a way to casually wipe the dew from my brow, cheeks, nose, chin, and neck while sitting still having a conversation with friends. 

I could probably deal with all of these inconveniences if I slept well at night.  However, menopause is no kind bedfellow and it torments me even there.  I can take as long as two hours to fall asleep at night only to be interrupted in multiple intervals with night sweats.  I have a fan blowing on me most of the time but that just results in my eyes being sealed shut from dryness in the morning; which by the way, is the only part of my body that is dry.

I could go on and on and on, bemoaning the ills of the slippery slope to being hormonally gender neutral.  The only positive thing about this is that I no longer have a monthly period. 

Remember when we were in high school and we called it The Curse?  Boy, were we naïve!  What I would give today to have Aunt Flo come for another visit.

Margaret Andersen is the mother of three teenagers and is a middle school teacher somewhere in the Midwest.  She is a regular ShareWIK.com columnist. For more Margaret Anderson articles, click here. 

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