No Longer a Regular Gig

New York writer Renee Petro has a husband, three kids, a baby guinea pig, and a fridge full of bottled water, Diet Coke, and ice cream! Why? Because as a baby boomer she has discovered that her fertility doesn’t last, but vitality is forever.

I was never the type of gal who got her period and just had business as usual for a few days. Starting at age 12 it was — exclamation point — seven days a month! Why did some women say “I got my friend”? This was no friend. It was the enemy that made me cranky, moody, crampy, pimply, pudgy and hungry for carbs.

So I had 32 years of getting it regular — very regular — each month. Minus two pregnancies and two rounds of breast feeding. And now at 44, it seems strange to say, but I miss the regular visitor. It’s like the uncle who visits on holidays. Sure, he is a little weird but you love his funny sense of waking everyone up from their boring routines.

Well, the P does still visit but may skip a month; it’s just not a regular gig any more. Can I be peri-menopausal (ugh what a word)? Is this even a real word or a thing named by doctors to scare women? It’s officially defined as those years when you haven’t completely stopped getting it but you no longer have a regular cycle. The official gyno news is that typically, the symptoms will begin as a change of menstrual cycle, followed by irritability (check); mood swings (check); depression (check); headaches (check); forgetfulness (check); and some aches or pains (check and check again).

Can I win this battle if I lift weights, walk, run, jump, hop, gallop, leap and carry on in an aerobic frenzy until it runs away? I promise to drink plenty of green tea, eat tofu and other soy products, and reduce my caffeine intake. I have no fear of wearing sexy clothes, growing long hair, and looking in the mirror.

The clock says, Tick tock, you are getting older. It may happen real fast or real slow. Who knows?! My advice is to keep going in a big way. Me? I want to hug myself. Scream out while jumping on the bed listening to rock and roll. Then climb back into bed and eat a pint of ice cream without caring about the calories (delicious)!

Yes, aging sucks (that’s my reality on a bad day)! But do you need to be a “fertility goddess” to feel young? I don’t care when my monthly “guest” wants to leave. I just hope she packs her bags quietly, departs my house in good shape, and drops some chocolates on the pillows to keep life yummy.

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