There’s so much pressure on women as we age to keep looking a certain way. Be this size. Look that young. Meanwhile, men are out here divorcing and marrying younger women with perfect little bodies. For the record, I couldn’t care less about age—I’ve had two husbands who were both ten years older than me. But let’s be real: society tells us that men “get better with age,” while women just get labeled “frumpy.”
Our bodies don’t look like they did in our 20s or 30s or even 40s. Hollywood makes it worse (and sometimes a little funny—if you’ve seen It’s Complicated or Four Seasons, you know what I mean). And the hot flashes? Don’t even get me started. I finally understand why women chop off their hair, live with a bun on top of their head, and can’t stand clothes touching their skin. Men? They get to be called “distinguished” with their grey hair or even “sexy” when they go bald. Women? Grey hair just makes us look older.
I don’t even know where to start with all the changes happening to my body. But let me tell you why I’m writing this: I think so many people don’t realize what menopause really puts us through.
Take my mirror, for example. I used to have the tiniest waist of all my girlfriends. Now? It’s gone. I’ve got a gut that never existed before. Add brain fog so bad I can’t remember names half the time, dry eyes that make contacts impossible, and now I’m that woman with glasses on all the time. Grey hair is creeping in. And, of course, we dye it blonde to cover it, only to get side-eyes for that. Oh, and let’s not forget the random armpit fat—seriously, where does that even come from? Some days, I don’t even recognize the person staring back at me.
And then there’s sleep. Or rather, the lack of it. Our brains need it. Our bodies need it. Yet somehow, it slips away the minute we need it most. I wore my Apple Watch to bed recently to track my sleep, and you know what it told me? Ten minutes. Ten minutes of deep sleep all night. Add five wake-ups—thank you, hot flashes—and I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.
So if you’ve got a woman in your life who isn’t herself right now, hear me on this: she may just be tired. Exhausted. Maybe even wondering if she’s losing her mind because she can’t think straight anymore.
I hear other women say, “This body bore kids, and sure, it shows—but it was worth it.” And I sit there thinking… my body didn’t bear kids, so why do I look like this? Shouldn’t I look like I did in high school? Of course, no one’s saying that to me—but that’s where my brain goes. I don’t have the “excuse” of pregnancy for the changes, so I judge myself even harder.
These changes can stop us in our tracks. And while I am deeply grateful to be alive and committed to aging gracefully, we have to be honest: this takes processing. Husbands, partners—listen up. This is a new version of us. We didn’t ask for her. We don’t even know her yet. But she’s here, and we’re learning to deal with her too.
Now, I’ll be honest. I haven’t had the mood swings or the “bitchiness” people talk about. But I have faced depression. The kind where you wonder if you’re making any difference at all, if you’re living in your purpose, if you’ll leave the world better than you found it.
For years, I fought hormone replacement therapy (HRT). I was scared. With no kids and a hysterectomy in my past, I thought the odds were stacked against me, and quite frankly, I was scared of cancer. But then I read The New Menopause by Dr. Mary Claire Haver. Game-changer. Every woman needs to read that book. So now, I have another appointment with my nurse practioner next week to finally say “I’m ready.”
Let me be clear: I’m not advocating for letting yourself go. I still love dressing up, looking great, and feeling confident. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a struggle. Getting dressed is a struggle. Doing my hair only to have a hot flash and it look like I didn’t comb it, is a struggle. Feeling pretty is a struggle, and don’t come at me for being honest.
Take this Wednesday when I fly. I’ll have my protein bars and grass-fed beef sticks packed, because that’s what I should eat. But the truth? What I’ll really want is that overpriced glass of airplane wine and two little biscotti cookies.
Because that’s life in this stage. A little discipline, a little indulgence, and a whole lot of grace for ourselves.
With love for you all,
Shauna
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