I can feel it. It’s getting close… Every time I kick off the covers at night, while my husband shivers and grumbles that if I crank the AC any higher he’ll have to wear his down parka to bed, I know that menopause is on its way, about to take over my life.
And you know what? I’m okay with that! Ever since I was a little kid and watched that episode of “All in the Family” where Edith went through the “change of life,” as they euphemistically called it, and finally, finally! told Archie to stifle it, I’ve thought of menopause as a moment when women can stop putting up with BS and just get the hell on with life.
And no more period cramps or pregnancy scares? Sign me up.
All right, I know it’s not going to be all wild, careless sex and fearlessly putting idiots in their place. There will be hot flashes, hormonal imbalances, forgetfulness, crankiness—but you take the bad with the good, right? And right now, I want to focus on the positive, which is why I plan to invite all my girlfriends to the Most Fabulous Menopause Party Ever. After all, most of us celebrated the beginning of our womanhood with bat mitzvahs, quinceañeras, and Sweet Sixteens, so why not celebrate the fact that we’re done with the reproductive phase of life and moving on to the next?
Since none of my friends will want to come to a party empty-handed, I’ve started thinking about what kinds of gifts would be appropriate for this Menopause Mania (Menapause-a-looza? Hot Flash Hullabaloo? Help me out here, I’m still working on it…). I did a little Googling and found a whole slew of gag gifts marketed to midlife women, which mainly seem to be mugs and calendars with slogans such as Menopausal Women Are Hot! (because…hot flashes, get it?). Um, okay, I don’t need any more mugs, so I wanted to think of something a little more fun.
Herewith, my top 5 fantasy items for the next exciting phase of life:
The World’s Most Handsome Air Conditioner
Hot flashes can be totally bearable if you have something fantastic to cool you down. I thought of an ice bath worthy of Queen Elsa in “Frozen,” or a walk-in freezer lined with frozé slushies, but then I decided, hey this is my fantasy! So I am hereby registering for an on-call lineup of handsome men, preferably with English accents, to fan me with giant palm fronds whenever I need a cooldown. My A-list right now is Ralph Fiennes, Benedict Cumberbatch, Idris Elba, and that sexy socialist chauffeur from “Downton Abbey.” I know they’re busy, what with their movie careers and all, but they can take turns. I’ll wait.
An All-White, All-Silk, Dry-Clean-Only Wardrobe
Not that I need to wear white every day (I live in New York City, where black is the new, old, and only black). But knowing that I never have to worry about a tampon malfunction, a surprise visit, or a leakage anymore makes me want to reconsider the kind of white silk pantsuit that celebrities wear so breezily on the red carpet (especially when they have an assistant with a Tide stain stick walking three feet behind them). And yes, I know someday there will be that other kind of leakage, but hopefully by then someone will have invented the most fabulous gold-lamé Depends you’ve ever seen, making me the undisputed hottie of the nursing home.
A Magically Transforming Duvet
Since night sweats already make nighttime an exercise in impossible temperature control, I would love a super-luxe, zillion-thread-count magical duvet that is cozy enough to cocoon me into sleep, but then with the push of a button transforms into that super-thin, sweat-wicking high-tech fabric that Olympic athletes wear. Doesn’t exist yet? Go invent it and you’ll make a fortune.
Tear-Away Day Clothes
Speaking of the sweats, I could use a few outfits held together with Velcro, like the pants the dancers at Chippendale’s wear, so when I get a hot flash in the middle of the checkout line in Whole Foods, instead of dropping my basket full of organic avocados and racing out the door, I can just swoosh!, rip off my pants and sweater and cool down in my previously hidden shorts and tank.
A BeDazzled Megaphone
I have found that once I passed the age of 50, just like Edith Bunker, I completely lost my tolerance for rudeness. When I’m sitting in the coffee bar trying to work on my laptop or read a book, I have no patience for the Millennials sitting at the table next to me, who are speaking at a volume SO LOUD it forces the entire café to participate in their conversation. I would like to take my sparkly megaphone, and like a coach calling plays on the football field, yell at them, “NO ONE HERE CARES ABOUT WHY DYLAN TEXTED YOU AT 3AM FROM SOPHIE’S PARTY!” Then I would politely sit down and finish my skim latte. Job done.
Of course, these are mere fantasies. Now let In The Groove make your dreams come true with a new Menopause Gift Guide. It’s stocked with everything you need to combat all those fun hormonal changes while also helping you have better sex or just keeping the crazies at bay.
