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Posts Tagged ‘gender’

Yes, we're only on #9

Thursday, September 23rd, 2021

photo by Kitty duKane

The list of 34 continues. Not sure what I'm talking about? Check out my earlier blog posts:

9. Mood changes

Because mental health is so burdened with stigma, I struggled with what to say when discussing mood changes because mood and mental health intermingle in my mind. No surprise here, but I AM NOT A MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONAL. Talk to your doctor for real issues.

Tangent! And if your doctor blows you off, get another f'ing doctor. One that will listen to you, that will respect that you know more about your body than they do. I had a doctor who is now — sadly for us — retired. She told me that I know more about my body than anyone. This is true. This doctor existed in the real world, not on television or a novel or comic book or some drug induced fantasy. She was my GP who respected me and wanted to know what I thought about my body.

De-tangent: You KNOW not to take advice from random people on the internet, right? That counts for me, too. I'm only discussing myself, my experiences, and/or my NOT PEER-REVIEWED research.

WebMD, the most popular website for self-diagnosing brain tumors, lists the following as emotional changes that might be experienced during menopause: Irritability, Feelings of sadness, Lack of motivation, Anxiety, Aggressiveness, Difficulty concentrating, Fatigue, Mood changes, Tension. (AKA my Monday To-Do list.) That's a lot of indicators, so let's just stick to the three mood changes listed as examples in the now infamous 34 symptoms.

  • Anxiety: I'm not talking about an anxiety disorder. See your doctor about this.
    • Terms: I'm having anxiety, or my botheration is acting up or I've got inflamed angst, swollen worry, or a tormented attitude.
  • Irritability: "That bitch is fractious," or, "Watch out. She has a tendency toward surliness." And, yes, I'm saying surliness is positive. The first definition of surly in merriam-webster.com is "menacing or threatening in appearance." Don't mess with me. "My petulance is extra prickly today."
  • Depression: There was a story on I think This American Life or The Moth or one of those NPR storytelling shows, where a guy (maybe Andrew Solomon?) talked about a better term for depression being a "brain storm" but "brainstorm" was already a thing. If I use the phrase "brainstorm" people will think I'm referring to coming up with great ideas rather than my brain is storming in my head, complete with dark clouds, high winds, and thunder. It's not a serene place: my brain is in turmoil.
    • What if we call it a brain tempest? Or a mood squall? Or cyclonic humour?

Alternately: "I'm going into the ring with temperament, and it doesn't look good" or "I'm stuck in bed with an unending assault of self-loathing" Another angle is being consumed with hopelessness, or as I like to call it, "chock full of no hope."

A Rogue by Any Other Name

Wednesday, September 8th, 2021

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Public Domain Dedication

As horrible as all the menopause terminology is, there are a couple of good names for the symptoms, like:

5. Rogue Ovulation

Is that not the best term? Watch out. Her ovaries have gone rogue, meaning there is one final egg that was a hold out, and finally gave up and dropped, causing a period. I want more cool terms like that.

But I don't want the actual experience. I'm glad I'm done.

If it happens, perhaps we could treat it like a sporting event: It's been a long stretch for Murphy, but there's been a rogue ovulation. Her huevos have rallied.

That's right. I said huevos. I'm reclaiming it for women. We're the ones with the goddamn eggs.

Renaming, Reframing & Reclaiming

Sometimes I need to remind myself that I'm part of a vibrant and vital community of menopausal women. There is no shame in menopause. It's not a dirty word. You cringe when you hear the term because society (read: cis men) has made menopause shameful. Think of menopause like reverse puberty. Don't you wish there'd been no shame, but rather joy, when you morphed into your teen body? And wouldn't you like to hug that awkward adolescent and tell them everything will be okay?

Maybe all these symptoms, or conditions, need renaming, or reframing. Can we make them all more badass, like rogue ovulation? Yes. Yes, we can.

I'm not looking for sweet words like glistening or glowing. I want worthy terminology.

6. Hot Flashes

Hot flashes have long been called a personal summer, which I like. How about Sorry. Portable sauna in progress. Or Warning, blazing outburst. The oven is ready. Be careful. You may get burned by the broiler My cousin (yes, that cousin) calls them power surges. Which might be my favorite.

7. Night sweats

Slick sleep? Saturated siesta? Sopping snooze? Fire naps? Or nocturnal blaze?

8. Vaginal dryness

Vaginal dryness is now a parched pussy, or thirsty twat, or, for the more erudite, arid quim might be more preferable.

Stay tuned for more vocabulary!

Intro to Menopause

Friday, August 13th, 2021

This started as standup. Then became a blog. And so it continues…

Warning!

I'm about to get raw.

The good news: I don't have to worry about getting pregnant anymore.

Don't get your boxers in a bunch. Because I know this would otherwise upset you: I'm gonna group perimenopause, menopause, and post-menopause into one category. Because, seriously, who cares? Most cis-men don't know the difference. And really, it's just a clusterfuck of physical mayhem.

Hiking with a friend the other day, I started talking about menopause. As you do. His wife is a little younger than me, so I figured he's had to talk about this, or will soon enough. If not, I was doing his wife a favor by breaking him. In. By breaking him in. He was being magnanimous and asked what symptoms I've had.

When I fuck my husband, my pussy rips open.

What do you talk about when you hike?

—————

Stay tuned for more!

Period

Thursday, November 12th, 2020

The standup continues…

Good: The tagline, "You're a vagenius"
Horrid: that they're called "down there wipes"
Embarrassing: that I call my vagina a "hoo-ha" in this post
Hoo-ha remains because I believe in calling myself out

I grew up hearing a quote from my cousin, who, at the onset of her period, said, I can't wait until menopause. It was an attitude I adopted and ran with, because, seriously, blood snot coming out of my hoo-ha and ruining all my clothes and making me double over in pain was stupid and annoying. No wonder they called it the curse. It makes me think that if there is a god, she must be a dude, because, seriously, is this some sort of revenge porn? There had to be a tidier less painful way to prove you're not pregnant.

There were a few times I worried about being pregnant, but my period was more likely to be early than late so I didn't have the scares that so many of my friends did. I don't even know if I can (could) get pregnant. My mother — in one of her many ploys to get a grandchild — told me that after she had a baby she stopped having cramps. I may have considered popping one out for about 30 seconds, but I was more willing to have cramps for two days a month for thirty-five years instead of having my life derailed by having a child. Wait. Let me do the math. Doubled over in pain from four to eight hours per menses. (I said menses cuz I'm doing math and it makes me sound more STEMMY.) Average that to six hours per period. Twelve months a year. For 35 years. That's over 2500 hours, or over 100 days, or 15 weeks, which is about three and a half months. So, I gave up three and a half months of my life so I didn't have to have a kid in the off chance that it would get rid of my cramps. What if I had a kid and still had cramps? If I do that math, its….. just pure evil.

It's okay. The pain lessened after about twenty years.

Whoever came up with the phrase "Sitting on a fine merlot" – Thank you.
Photo Credit: THOR, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Gender Schmender

Sunday, November 1st, 2020

This started as stand-up so I expected you to see me when you heard this. But now you're reading it. So…..

Who's that girl?

I know, you're thinking, well, she's really given up on herself. Nope. This is me. I've never been girly. Rachel Maddow wears too much makeup for me. You know that girl who wore a tux to her prom? That was me. Even though I went with my boyfriend. I find that I still have to come out as hetero. A situation I would often find myself in when I moved to San Francisco. Having to come out. And to every therapist I ever had. No. I'm not a lesbian. I like dudes!

Then the world at large started becoming aware of the difference between gender and sexuality- or we all caught up with the enlightened. That's when a light bulb went off in my head. Ohhhh. All these years, that's what people have been picking up on. Not that I was a lesbian, but that I was part dude. Not transgender. Just a pinch. Okay. More than a pinch.
Gawd bless the nonbinary for letting me realize this. I love the overexuberance of youth. Some say they over-embrace the nonbinary, but if they didn't where would we be? Fuck we- where would I be. Questioning my sexuality because everyone else did.

Let me back up.

I had short hair when I was little. I used to get mistaken for a boy. A LOT. By girls in the girls' bathroom. Girls screaming- something I never did. I mean, I yelled, but I never screamed- girls screaming that I was in the wrong bathroom. Their response both upset and empowered me. What's wrong with me?! I'm a freak! Wait. I had older brothers and I wanted to be like them. So, yay?

I wanted so badly to be like them, my older brothers, that I shaved once- before they shaved. And cut up my face. My family laughed at me. Girls don't do that, they said. And I thought, well, they don't because it hurts.

I also tried to pee standing up. They told me girls don't do that, either. And it was messy. Mom had to talk to me. Apparently, boys are equipped to do this. Which is not fair, because public restrooms are disgusting. I'd rather pee standing up instead of spending eons fashioning an ass-gasket- er, er, toilet seat cover- out of toilet paper. Just one of the many ways that men have an advantage over women. Wait. Gender. Men/women. Plumbing. Whatever. I get confused when I have to talk about whatever we are / I am anymore.

I've often wondered if my proclivity toward men's clothes is just about the pockets. Oh, and the comfort. And the flat shoes. And I don't do skirts. Didn't. The only time you'll see me in a skirt is if my crotch needs some air. Ugh. My poor mother would go batshit any time I dressed as a girl, any time I did anything remotely girly. Needless to say, she wasn't happy that I wore a tux to my prom. My first year of college, I asked for make-up for Christmas. She bought me $500 worth of make-up. And this was 1984. So, that makeup would probably cost at least a couple thousand in today's dollars. Seriously. She wanted me to be girly.

Sorry Mom.