Something surprisingly magical happened this week.
Only, I was wearing a paper dress that tied in the back not a sparkly gown with a crinoline and my Fairy Godmother wore a lab coat and waved a rather large Q-tip instead of a magic wand.
I sat perched on the exam table in my birthday suit swinging my legs while reading my Erma Bombeck book, distracted by the conversation going on in the next room.
A young mother-to-be was making a prenatal visit, listening to the first sounds of her baby’s heartbeat.
Yes, that was magical, but the real magic was about to happen in my exam room.
After a poke, a pinch and a squeeze…my Fairy Godmother uttered the following words.
“Well, you are there…you’re in the Menopause!”
To some, those words may bring about feelings of sheer horror. For me, it was exciting and liberating.
As I skipped to the checkout counter, the nurses at the desk asked me for my ticket.
Ticket? Wow, do I actually get a golden ticket like Charlie in Willie Wonka And The Chocolate Factory, to eat all the heart-healthy dark chocolate I can shovel into my shrinking lips?
And don’t forget about the calcium-loaded milkshakes that are important to maintaining bone mass and a proper menopot. Who wants to look like a question mark? I’ll have a double-vanilla malt, and make it quick before I snap!
And then, it hit me like my boobs are going to be hitting my knees, that the reason Talbots stocks an overabundance of sleeveless shirts is to keep us cool from all the hot flashes.
I’m applying for my NRA card because the gun show is on. I’m flabbily armed and proud of it – I’m in the Menopause!
I called my mom to give her the big news on my way to the post office.
“Hey mom, guess what? I’m in the Menopause!”
“Oh, honey, congratulations! I’m so proud of you!”
Maybe it was the menopausal power surge, but suddenly, I felt like singing and dancing in the parking lot of the post office.
In my mind, I was Doris Day twirling and singing, “I’m in the Menopause and I don’t care who knows it,” to the tune of I Enjoy Being A Girl.
The post office clerk asked me if I would like a book of stamps.
I replied, “Yes, I’m in the Menopause!”
She said, “Congratulations! Would you like the Forever Stamps with the shriveled up ovaries, the Sahara Desert series or the natural estrogen collectibles with soybean oil on the back?
“I’ll have one of each!”
And for the big finish, we all sang in chorus, “She’s in the Menopause!”
© 2012 Terri Spilman