Girlie holidays… Once the menopause hits

So here we are six menopausal women going mad(der) in Crete – twenty years on since we last all went crazy in Greece.

There have definitely been some changes in that time. Twenty years ago our wash bags bulged with cosmetics, including the essential Body Shop bronzer to contour those amazing cheekbones we all had but did not appreciate until the menopausal weight gain rendered them a distant memory.

Now the essentials are tweezers. Not for our eyebrows as in a cruel twist of fate, just as your chin gets hairier your eyebrows start to go bald! Well I say all of us, Joyce hasn’t got her tweezers as she was too tight to pay for her bag to go into the hold so they were confiscated as she took her carry on bag through security. The security guard was rather shocked by her reaction – clearly he’s never got between a menopausal woman and her tweezers before! I think Joyce may have over-reacted by – perhaps she shouldn’t have have said if she was going to blow up the plane she would’ve have brought “… agrenade along, not a pair of fucking tweezers!”

We also have a shit load more medications. Thyroxine, statins, medication for high blood pressure all adorn the kitchen surfaces, alongside the HRT for some and supplements for others. Personally, I can’t see my symptoms being relived by dabbing aloe vera on my temples, but if it works for Shazza, then who am I to judge?

We’ve been splashing about in our bikinis in the pool. We worked out that between us that we’re about 14 stone heavier than last time – but do you know how we managed to get bikini body ready? Yup, we just put a fecking bikini on! Then we decided the seclusion of our villa meant an all over tan was a necessity. ‘Suns oot, taps aff’ as they say in my home town!

We are a little more battered than before with scars from ops and tumbles. Gravity has taken its toll, and we bear more emotional scars from the inevitable lows that join the highs of getting older – watching people we love get sick and die, divorces, heartbreaks, disappointments. So you’ll excuse us for not giving a shit that the fashion journalists say that a one piece is more flattering to the over 40 figure. We just look over each other’s broken fences and admire the flowers in each other’s gardens

In the restaurants the waiters no longer ogle us, focussing on the young and the beautiful, but we wait patiently discussing the best use of our menopausal superpower of invisibility. We decide again a bank heist, but are still considering a shoplifting spree at John Lewis.

We wander off to our rooms and come back to ask what we went in for. We have conversations that are littered with ‘have I already said that?’ and ‘am I repeating myself?’. We are half-way through our holiday books before we realise we think we have read them before. Our reading glasses now adorn various surfaces and we take turns to lose them and help others find theirs.

We are gutted to realise we are so shit with technology we can’t figure out how to get Strictly Come Dancing on the iPad, so we do our own version which owes more to enthusiasm than talent – but who cares because we are not getting judged and no-one is watching! We follow up with an X Factor competition with various cats that now live with us ever since the word got out that Shazza dropped a bit of chicken on the balcony. Probably thankfully, Simon Cowell can’t hear us.

We nap in the afternoon and go to bed at the same time we used to head out to the clubs at – and we don’t care!

I am not sure if sunshine and being slightly pissed is helping our symptoms but they certainly help us give less of a toss about them!

To read more from Jennifer, check out her blog:

3 Responses

  1. Hysterical. Had to squeeze my pelvic floor during many laugh-out-loud moments. Hey Andrea, new slogans for next lot of merchandise: #clenchingwench #squeeze2wheeze #squeezeorwee?.

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