Every morning, I fumble for my glasses, hoping to grab the correct pair. With contacts, I need readers, and without them, I rely on prescription lenses. If you spot any typos in this piece, feel free to blame my aging eyes; they’re not what they used to be.
My first encounter with the phrase “at your age” happened during a visit to the dentist. While I sat in the chair, mouth filled with tools and draped in a green bib, I mentioned some tooth sensitivity. The dentist replied matter-of-factly, “Sensitivity is common for women at your age.” I was only 42! I longed to protest and proclaim my youth, but the dentist’s hands were busy, leaving me mute. Later, while shopping, I found myself eyeing Sensodyne, a toothpaste marketed for people like me.
A few months down the line, I voiced my concerns about thinning hair to my doctor. After running some tests, she assured me that hair loss is normal “at your age.” In a burst of defiance, I cut my hair short and dyed it a bright blue.
Not long after, my physical therapist chimed in, commenting on how it’s typical for individuals “at your age” to experience recurring issues from past injuries. It felt like my body was haunted by old aches, leaving me with no choice but to schedule even more therapy sessions.
During my annual wellness check, the phrase “at your age” took on a new meaning when I learned about perimenopause. My OB-GYN, who I truly respect, told me about changes that come with this phase. I left her office feeling defeated, messaging my husband, “I have an old vagina!” While she didn’t say it outright, I learned that my once-vibrant anatomy had changed. “Absolutely normal,” she reassured me. But how could this feel normal? Who knew that the insides of our bodies could change colors?
She also prescribed iron supplements for the heavier periods I was experiencing, trying to calm my worries about this potentially long process. “It’s all normal,” she repeated. Yet, if you browse through literature on perimenopause, it often paints a dramatic picture, discussing strategies for “surviving” this phase.
Unlike puberty, which is celebrated with education and support, the journey through perimenopause often feels solitary. We prepare young girls for their first periods, and pregnant women receive abundant advice and care, yet as we enter our forties, society goes silent. Instead of resources, we find ourselves grappling with various symptoms—everything from unexpected weight gain to hair loss and sudden mood swings—without guidance.
None of my friends received a manual to navigate these changes. We find ourselves facing a myriad of issues that, while completely normal, often leave us feeling isolated—like when we cough and realize we might pee a little or when we struggle to read a menu in a dimly-lit restaurant.
I refuse to see perimenopause and menopause as something to conquer or survive. Such language implies there’s a battle to be fought, like climbing a mountain or facing a fear. These are natural stages of life. Instead, I want to embrace this time with the same excitement I felt during puberty and my first pregnancy. There’s still vitality in this body, even “at my age.”
Let’s shift the narrative around aging and its changes. To kick off this positive movement, I plan to celebrate my friends’ 40th birthdays with a Perimenopause Package, filled with essentials like Sensodyne, a deodorant sampler, a fan, lubricant, chocolate, and a bottle of wine. Here’s to embracing perimenopause with joy!
This piece originally appeared on May 31, 2019.